Fort Defiance
by Aconitum-Napellus
Summary: 1865, Arizona. Ben Shelby arrives at the Tallon ranch looking for revenge on Johnny Tallon, but finds only his blind brother Ned and Ned's Uncle Charlie. An unlikely friendship strikes up between Ned and his brother's would-be killer. Peter Graves fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

1.

The horse was nervous in the safety of the corral. It wasn't the high, dusty land that bothered him, or the wide open skies, or the threat of the loose rocks and canyon sides. Peppy loved to gallop wherever he was given free rein. It was being penned up that bothered him, being hemmed in by rough planks and having to depend on the kindness of those around him for his existence. It was a feeling that Ned Tallon had understood for close on four years now.

The horse whinnied and protested, flinching away from Ned's hand as he tried to calm him. He could feel the nervousness vibrating through his muscles and skin, everything coiled up and waiting to release. When the horse moved his head towards him his breath was hot and moist against Ned's cheek, a welcome moment of heat in the chill October air, but the head moved close and then away again as if the horse were searching for some way of escape.

'Easy there, Peppy. Easy.'

He kept his voice calm and steady. He had saddled plenty of horses and he could saddle Peppy just as long as he could keep him calm, and ride him too. Old Doggone was a good horse but there was something free and spirited in riding a horse like Peppy out in this rough country.

'Easy,' he said again as the horse jittered. 'Easy, Peppy.'

A noise caught his attention. It caught Peppy's attention too. The horse felt suddenly focussed and alert through the leather looped about its neck and through the muscle at its shoulder.

'Uncle Charlie?' Ned asked. He was expecting his uncle back from checking the cattle any time now.

'Is your name Tallon?'

Ned turned in surprise at the unfamiliar voice. Strangers were not exactly a novelty these days, but still sometimes it was days or weeks between their passing. There was an edge to this man's voice, but maybe he was tired out with the riding and wary of coming to strangers. It wasn't in Ned's nature to be suspicious and ornery just for the sake of it.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Ned Tallon.'

'What's your kinship to John Tallon?' the man asked. He sounded like the men who came from the east – an Okie, maybe.

'Well, I'm Johnny's brother,' Ned said, standing a little straighter. He was proud that he could claim such a kinship.

'Where is Johnny?'

Ned put a hand on the horse's neck again to steady it, feeling its tension jittering through the leather strap.

'Who are ya?' he asked the stranger curiously.

Folks who knew Johnny were always going to fall on one side or the other of the line. He was proud of Johnny for being able to turn his hand to most anything and talk his way out of everything else and draw his guns faster than a lightning strike when his fast-talk failed, but some people hated him for it.

'Friend of Johnny's,' the man said economically. 'Where is he?'

Ned relaxed inside. Having a friend of Johnny's here was maybe almost as good as Johnny himself. It was too long since he had seen his brother or heard any word but through the few letters that Uncle Charlie read out in his slow, analytical way.

The horse seemed to sense his feelings and calmed a little too. Ned rubbed at his face, thinking of what he had last heard from Johnny. He seemed to spend most his time travelling, going by his infrequent correspondence.

'I reckon he must be somewhere on his way here by now.'

'From where?'

'Don't rightly know,' he admitted. 'I ain't seen Johnny since before the war.'

'Well, how do you know he's coming here?' the man asked, with that edge creeping back into his voice.

'Got a letter from him a while back, 'bout the time the war ended. Said he'd be home by the month before Christmas.'

'About four or five weeks then, you reckon?'

'Yeah, 'bout.' This was starting to feel like some kind of interrogation. Whoever this man was, he sure was keen to see his brother. 'Where d'you know Johnny from, the army?'

'Yeah.'

The man's voice was full of something with that word. What was it? Doubt, regret? For all of his profession of friendship there was tension crackling in the air again. Peppy felt it too. Abruptly the horse snickered and whinnied, and then lurched up away from Ned's hand.

The stranger's voice was like a shot in the clear air.

'Look out!'

A horse in panic was a powerful thing, all muscle and heat unleashed in mindless fury. It made the ground shiver as it bucked and came down hard, raising dust that filled the air and powdered the inside of his nose and mouth. Ned stumbled backwards and fell onto the ground.

'Get out of there!'

Ned didn't even try. Peppy would chase you if he saw you running, and Ned had never yet been able to master running blind. He could hear and feel the horse above him like a fury and knew if he raised himself up it would like as not knock his head off with its flailing hooves. He rolled onto his front, holding his hat down hard over his head as the only protection he had. It was hard to hear the stranger through Peppy's whinnying and the clashing of his hooves, but somewhere behind it there was the whip of a rope through the air and the panicked lunges of the horse slowly subsided.

Ned pushed himself up off the ground and stood, tilting his hat back straight and steadying himself. His heart was hammering, the blood still surging through his veins after those long, fleeting moments of panic. The stranger came back to him and he had the same signs of shock in his voice that Ned was feeling.

'Why didn't you get out when you had the chance?'

'I can't see.'

It was always a bitter admission to make. Better to get through the banter with these wayfarers without them ever knowing, ever pitying.

There was that familiar pause, and the hand before his face. They thought he couldn't sense them doing that, but he could feel it somehow, like a pressure close to his skin.

'You mean you got no sight at all?'

He shook his head. There was a flicker sometimes, like the light moving behind a thick curtain, but that could not be called sight. It told him nothing more than whether it was night or day, and he could tell that from other things.

'Well, what d'you want to try to saddle a horse like that for?'

The anger welled up in him quickly. It came sometimes like one of those geysers in Yellowstone, quick and steaming. His ma had always said there was no one this side of the Colorado as glad-hearted as Ned, but his anger was a sharp thing somewhere deep inside, and it came and went like a small storm.

'Why not?' he asked hotly. 'I wasn't always blind.'

He had a fleeting thought of dawns when the light cut sharp across the dusty land, the horses standing patient in the corral. The smell of leather and saddle oil and that glint of the sunlight on the horses' flanks. Saddling up any one he chose and riding out into the hard, open country, with the air clear around him and the shadows long and solid on the ground…

It did no good to think of those things, but still, he let himself sometimes. There was nothing to compare with the beauty of dawn light on the red dust and on those cliffs that stood so straight and tall it looked like the Lord Himself had raised them up from the ground yesterday.

Hooves sounded on the dirt, and he turned. Likely it was Charlie this time, but it was busy these days with all the fortune-hunters passing through and you could never be sure who was going to turn up at the door, friend or foe. And then there was Fort Defiance. Johnny had left plenty behind in Fort Defiance to count as enemies.

'Uncle Charlie?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

The voice was familiar and reassuring, and he relaxed a few inches as his uncle came into the corral.

'Look here, mister,' Charlie began, the Irish pushing through into his voice as it always did when he was readying for a confrontation. 'I ain't hostile to veterans, but the best you can get here is feed and water for yer horse and a hunk of bacon for the trail, and don't let any of our herd attach themselves to yer on the way out.'

Ned could picture him squaring up to the stranger, moving from foot to foot as if he were getting ready for a fight. His rifle was probably somewhere near about. Uncle Charlie wasn't as quick as Johnny, but his aim had always been sure.

'Uncle Charlie, this here's a friend of Johnny's,' Ned said quickly, before his uncle's hackles rose any further.

'A _friend_ of Johnny's?' Charlie asked, disbelief thick in his voice. 'Mr – er – ?'

'Ben,' the stranger said. 'Ben Shelby.'

'Oh,' Charlie said slowly. 'What happened to you?' he asked of Ned.

The dust must have been powdering over his coat and perhaps his hands and knees. A little river of nervous laughter welled up in him. Charlie would be sore at him for trying to take Peppy out alone.

'I was saddling Peppy,' he said, straightening his coat and his belt with his hands. 'If it wasn't for Shelby here he – mighta got me.'

As he expected, Uncle Charlie exploded. He was fond of Ned and took care of him the best he could, letting him do what he could and trying to protect him from the rest. That was why sometimes Ned waited until he was out from under Uncle Charlie's eye to try what _he_ thought he could do.

'Didn't I tell you never to try to saddle Peppy 'less I was around?' Charlie scolded him hotly.

'Ah, you was around,' Ned said carelessly.

'I know, but in the corral. You want to ride, take old Doggone.' Charlie turned to Shelby and said with gratitude, 'Thanks, mister.'

The sound of hooves again was a new relief, stopping Ned's uncle from launching into what was sure to be a lecture on what was safe and what was not. Two horses it was this time, both cantering over the dusty ground to reach the corral. He heard one man dismount and he touched his hand to Shelby's coat for guidance as they moved over towards the newcomer.

'Howdy,' the man called as he came into the corral.

'Howdy, strangers,' Uncle Charlie responded easily.

'Who owns this place here?'

He was looking about as he said that, trying to figure which of the men to speak to. Coming into the corral like that, standing so close to Charlie, looking them all over – he wanted something. Ned could tell.

'I do,' Uncle Charlie said.

'Well, we were just riding through and spotted some of your cattle out there.'

Charlie tried to change the tack of the conversation. There had been enough people through here already who casually mentioned the cattle before offering up deals to take them away.

'Where ya heading for? California?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

'Gold fields, huh?'

'That's right, pop.'

'Yeah, most of you veterans are. Well, you just keep heading that direction,' Uncle Charlie said, still trying to move them on with his words. He liked it best when it was him and Ned here, and no one else. He didn't have to watch anyone for trouble, then. 'If you're shoving off, Shelby, you can throw in with them.'

'Like to buy some of your cattle,' the man persisted. 'Bout fifty head.'

'What was you figuring on paying?' Charlie asked, a dangerous softness entering his voice.

'Fifty cents a head.'

'Well! If you could get it for that price, be cheaper than stealing them, wouldn't it?' Charlie's voice suddenly became hard again. 'I tell you what you do, son. You just keep heading in that direction. Maybe you'll find some idiot that'll do that.'

'Be nice, pop,' the man snapped, moving forward with his words.

'You heard him,' Ned snapped, feeling the tension racking up. 'There ain't nothing for sale here.'

There was silence – and then the sudden noise of a boot against metal and Shelby snapped, 'Lay down,' in a short, urgent voice.

Ned threw himself to the ground, trusting Shelby on instinct. He had already saved his hide once today. As he dropped a shot rang out, exploding close to him. There was a pained grunt and thud as a body collapsed to the dirt. Shelby had fired – he was sure of that – but he couldn't be sure if there had been another shot, or just the echo of Shelby's from the cliffs about the house. Only one body had dropped, he was certain.

'Well, I guess that's all, innit boys?' Shelby drawled calmly, and Ned got to his knees, hearing the other felled man clambering upright. He couldn't be badly hurt, if he was standing.

A kind of silence hung in the air as the man left the corral and mounted his horse. The only sound then was the thudding of hooves as the men cantered away. Ned waited until they were a distance away before standing up. Guns unnerved him when he couldn't see where they were pointing.

'You all right, Ned?' Charlie asked him, his voice subdued.

'Yeah,' he grunted as he straightened up. 'I'm all right.'

'The way you handled that gun, you must be a friend of Johnny's,' Charlie began in a buoyant tone.

Ned knew that without Shelby it would have been a fine line between their standing here now and lying on the dirt bleeding to death while their cattle were herded out by those strangers. When Johnny came home it would all be different, but there was little hope for one old man and one blind one to hold the ranch together for long. Johnny _needed_ to come back. He needed to…

'There never was much law here before the war. Even less now,' Charlie mused as he recovered his rifle and dusted it off. 'Men keep coming through, don't know where they're going or no notion of what they're gonna do. Got so used to killing that killing's the only thing they're sure of.'

'Ah, Johnny'd put a stop to that,' Ned said with certainty. 'When d'you see him last, Shelby – ?'

'If you're shoving off, Shelby,' Charlie cut across him, 'I reckon we can spare you a fresh horse.'

'Kinda figured maybe I'd stick around and wait for Johnny,' Shelby drawled.

'And what did you figure on doing while you was waiting?' Charlie asked him acerbically.

'You _could_ use a hand, couldn't you?'

'Well, if you wanna work for grub and scarcely no wages, that's the only kind we can afford.'

That would have most people moving on without a moment's hesitation, but Shelby said firmly, 'I'll take it.'

'Where's your horse?'

'Tied to the hitch rack.'

'All right. Come on,' Charlie said to Ned, touching a hand to his shoulder. Ned took the offered arm and followed the men out of the corral over to the house.

'I'll fix some coffee while you take care of the horses,' Ned offered, letting loose his hold on Charlie's sleeve and stepping toward the house.

'You take care of the stove, won't you, Ned?' Charlie called after him.

'Yeah, I always do, Uncle Charlie.'

He trailed his hand along the rough wall of the house, feeling each stone catching and loosing beneath his fingers until they turned the sharp corner into the doorway. He ducked into the windless inside of the house, where there was no more dust in the air and the warmth of the stove was a beacon at the end of the room. He hung his jacket on the peg by the door and went to find the pitcher of water.

The stove was pouring heat into the room as he carefully put the kettle down on the hot plate, and the water spat its fury as a small spill touched the iron. Ned dropped a handful of coffee beans into the grinder and sat down in the rocking chair, turning the grinder handle and letting the scent of coffee rise about him as the water began to hiss its way toward boiling.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Ben grew to be a comfortable presence in the house with remarkable swiftness. There was something right about sitting by the stove in the evening with Ben there a few feet away and Uncle Charlie sitting nearby darning a worn-through sock or mending some piece of tack or whittling at a piece of wood. It reminded Ned of the evenings before Johnny had gone to war. Ben was quieter, perhaps, than Johnny. He was less restless – but then Ben had a wife. Ned couldn't imagine Johnny ever coming home with a wife. He enjoyed being a bachelor too much. The Arizona Tallons would maybe end with him and Johnny.

Ned thought about that as he sat in the shallow wash tub before the heat of the stove, a blanket strung up between him and the rest of the room, swiftly scooping the water over his limbs and torso. The Tallons didn't get to a lot of praying on Sundays like they had when Ned's ma was still around, but they did still take their baths on Saturdays, religiously, so to speak. Ben had been here for almost two weeks and he'd settled right in, even down to taking his turn in the wash tub on Saturday night and then sitting afterwards, drying off and smoking, just like Johnny used to do.

Ned could smell Ben's tobacco smoke drifting through the air, pulled by the draught of the stove. Ben smoked a different brand to him and Uncle Charlie, and the smells mingled together as they drifted past him, the familiar and the new entwined. It gave Ned a moment's feeling of being in the saloon in Fort Defiance, where at least five different tobacco blends always hung in the air – but that was always mixed up with the smell of liquor and sweat and men's boots. Here it was just mixed with the fading scent of salt pork and sour dough and the smoke from the stove.

Ned always scrubbed hard in the tub because he couldn't see the dirt that must be on him after a week of working and riding. Back when he could see, the water had always had a faint red hue after his bathing from the red dirt that settled on him whenever a horse's hooves stirred up the ground. He used to sit in the shallow water, fascinated at the change in colour, watching the droplets glinting in the lamplight as they ran down his body. Uncle Charlie had always hassled him for taking too long. He couldn't see the droplets of water any more, but he still sat too long in the tub, thinking, and Charlie still hassled him to hurry up.

'You almost done, Ned?' Uncle Charlie called, close by the screen.

'Yeah, almost.'

He scooped the water over his head and felt his hair flatten to his scalp. Johnny had told him that somewhere in between the gold strands of his hair was the thin white scar from the Parker boys' beating. He couldn't feel it at all, even when his hair was dry and light on his head. There were no scars on him but that one, Johnny had told him – that one, and whatever scar or damage had been left inside his eyes after the blow that had left him out cold for days.

'Ned?'

'Yeah,' he said, feeling on the chair beside the tub for the towel.

He stood up tall in the fire's heat, rubbing the water out of his hair and letting the stove do the rest of the drying.

'Good, cause my water'd be boiling over if you sat there much longer,' Charlie complained amiably. 'Give me that towel, Ned – I'll hang it up to dry.'

Ned handed over the towel and felt on the chair for his long underwear, taking good care as always not to brush the stove with his naked flank as he reached over. He had gained enough small, agonising burns in the first months of his blindness to teach him to always be respectful of the stove's power.

'I'll throw out your water. You go'n have a good jaw with Shelby,' Charlie instructed Ned firmly as he pulled on the knit underwear. 'I'd sure like to think you two have got more to do than listen to an old man scrub his – Well…'

'Come on, Ned,' Ben said, thrusting cloth into his hands. Ned felt over it, and recognised it was his pants and shirt. 'Get those on, and let's go check on the cattle. I thought I heard a wolf howling before.'

'Ah, that was a long ways off,' Ned shrugged. The evening heat was rising around him and the air felt thick and comforting. He didn't feel like going out into the fall cold, but he started to sort out the bundled clothes in his hands anyway. 'Ain't it dark out, Ben?'

'Yeah, just about,' Ben told him. 'But it don't bother you. Don't see why it should bother me, either. Tell you what – I'll finish up oiling my gun and I'll roll us some cigarettes. You saddle up the horses. May as well each do what we're good at.'

'All right, Ben,' Ned nodded, pushing the small buttons through the eyeholes of his shirt one by one.

There was something about Ben. Ned didn't like to think bad of Johnny, but Ben always let him play to his strengths. He trusted Ned to be able to do what he needed to do. Johnny always took things out of Ned's hands and did them himself, like he was impatient or untrusting of Ned's ability, while Ben stood back and talked slow and waited for Ned to finish each task on his own.

He pulled on his coat and opened the door. The air outside was cold in his still-damp hair. He reached and took his hat from the peg, and then went to fetch the saddles, first his, and then Ben's. Ben's horse wasn't as staid as old Doggone but he still stood patiently enough while Ned hefted the saddle onto his back and started to sort out the stirrups and the girth. His body was warm and solid against Ned's hand, and he could hear the rumblings of digestion going on inside. Maybe the horse had been expecting a quiet night munching on hay and standing about the corral. But Ben was right – there was a wolf somewhere howling, closer than it had been before. It was a good idea to go check on the stock.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The canyons were quiet at first with that night time stillness that seemed to press down over the land. The sound of the horses' hooves echoed from the hard cliffs, coming back clear through the dry, still air. Even the creaking of the saddles sounded loud against the wordless night. It seemed to Ned like the only things alive in the world were the men and their horses, and that wolf somewhere, crying to the sky.

'It's cold,' Ned said.

'It's close on cloudless,' Ben said in reply. 'Moon looks like a silver dollar balancing on top of them cliffs. Looks so close I could touch it.'

'I ain't seen a silver dollar in a long time,' Ned laughed. 'I can picture it, though.'

'It's light as day, almost,' Ben said as the horses picked their way forward over the rough ground. 'I guess Jane's maybe looking up at that same moon,' he added after a spell of silence.

'I guess so,' Ned smiled. 'You miss her, Ben?'

'Of course I miss her,' Ben said gruffly. 'A man starts to depend on having a woman around. Half us were half crazy when we was fighting, all them men corralled together and in the mood for killing, and not a woman around to ease their troubles.'

'Johnny wrote there was public women about the camps like flies on a wound,' Ned said, feeling the horse shift and shift back again as it rounded one of the outcrops of rock that littered the ground hereabouts. A smell of sagebrush rose into the air as the horse pushed past a bush.

'Yeah, there was women enough of that kind,' Ben said darkly. 'I went with one once.'

'Yeah? Oh, man…' Ned half laughed. He wasn't sure what else to say. He felt suddenly hot and awkward despite the cold night around him. 'Was she nice?' he asked finally.

'Nah, she was sharp as flint and rough as a bar room floor, and stank of liquor too,' Ben said shortly, kicking the horse on to a trot for a moment as if he wanted to shake the thought out of his mind. 'I ain't never doing that again. T'ain't worth the bother.'

'Maybe them kinda women are different, but I never thought of girls as bother,' Ned said with a distracted smile. 'I don't know – I like just the smell of them, the sound of their skirts brushing on the floor.'

'You even been with a woman, Ned?' Shelby asked curiously.

'Yeah, once,' Ned said with a soft smile, remembering that time. 'Been going with Nellie Carlton for a while and we went out in her pa's barn when her ma and pa was away. I was so scared I thought I wasn't going to be able to do it… She said if anything came of it I'd have to marry her, but nothing did and then I lost my sight. She – didn't talk to me after that.'

'She pretty?'

'Johnny said she was a deal too pretty for me,' he laughed quietly. 'She had ringlets looked like fresh wood shavings – you know that gold you get when you plane down pine?'

'Yeah, I know,' Ben nodded.

'Funny thing is, I don't remember so much about how she looked then. I just remember the smell of her. She had a real pretty smell, and the hay all about her. I can't smell hay without thinking about that time.'

They rode on for a while through the cold, quiet land. A kind of barking howl set off to the left of them as the horses walked down another slope and Ned heard Ben hefting the rifle he had borrowed from Uncle Charlie.

'Coyote,' Ned said, shaking his head. 'I bet you can't get a sight on it, anyhow. It's behind something.'

'You're right,' Ben said slowly, letting the horse move cautiously sideways towards the noise. 'Think it's in them bluffs over there. Was that what we heard before?'

'No, that was a wolf,' Ned said decisively. 'Listen, Ben.'

There was a howl much closer to them then, different in timbre to the coyote's sound.

'_That's_ a wolf,' Ned said as his horse moved nervously sideways. 'Can you see the cattle?'

'Yeah, they're down there, huddled together,' Ben said. He hefted the rifle again, and this time he did not lower it. 'There more than one, you think?'

'Could be. I don't know,' Ned said honestly.

A shot rang out somewhere ahead and Ned's grip tightened on the reins. He sat motionless on the horse's back, listening keenly as another horse somewhere moved forward at a trot.

'Indian pony,' he murmured. 'An Indian shot that wolf.'

'An Indian protecting your cattle?' Ben asked with some surprise.

Ned shrugged. 'Maybe. We've always shared some stock with the Indians. Maybe he's protecting his own people. He's gonna take that wolf for the fur.' He laughed. 'I sure wish I could get my hands on it. I'd like to have me a wolf skin for my bed over winter.'

'Well,' Ben murmured. 'Maybe I can shoot you another for a blanket – or would you prefer a hat and slippers?'

Ned laughed, but then he shook his head. 'No – they'll move on. Wolves ain't stupid.'

There was an uneasy silence in the air, broken only by the small, restless movements of the cattle and the sound of the un-shod Indian pony being ridden up out of the canyon. Ned listened, but he heard no other signs either of wolves or Indians.

'We may as well get on home, Ned,' Ben said finally. 'There's nothing else we can do here.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Uncle Charlie was sitting in the heat of the fire when they got back, the wash tub emptied out and the blanket taken down. He was playing a slow tune on the accordion his pa had brought over from the old country and the music filled the house like something sweet and mournful all mingled together. Ned took his place in his chair and let the words of each verse drift out as Charlie played, until the song was finished and Charlie set the instrument down.

'I guess you didn't get that wolf?' he asked.

Ned shook his head. 'Nah. Ben would have, but an Indian got it first.'

'Those Indians are pretty busy these days, ain't they?' Charlie commented, and Ned laughed.

'I guess it's their land too. I ain't going to fight with them if they don't want to fight with me. And there ain't no wolf bothering our cattle now.'

Some of the ranchers hereabout liked to pick fights with the Indians and drive them out of their land and take shots at them for sport. Ned saw no sense in that. It was better to be friendly and to share what they could. It was no fun having things taken away from you, and he sure didn't feel any need to keep going and taking things away from the Indians that had lived here since time began.

'I guess so,' Charlie said slowly. He didn't take so easily to Indians on his land – but then, Ned had grown up alongside the Indians, and Charlie hadn't.

'Besides, Brave Bear's a good man,' Ned shrugged. He felt in his pocket for his pouch and papers and began to roll himself a cigarette. 'He's never done us any harm. Helped us out a few times, too.'

'Things are changing,' Ben murmured from his seat opposite Ned. He was rolling his own cigarette. 'Let me light that for you, Ned,' he said.

'Thanks, Ben.'

'I been hearing rumours that the Indians are going to be moved on pretty soon,' Ben said as he lit the cigarette on the stove and handed it back to Ned.

Ned drew the hot, rich smoke into his lungs, and exhaled slowly.

'Ah, they're fine long as you don't bother them,' he said. 'There's no call for moving them on.'

'It not up to us. It's up to the good folks in Washington,' Ben pointed out. 'I was thinking of going into Fort Defiance on Monday, see if there's a letter from Jane. Might hear more about the Indians then. You want to come, Ned?'

'Sure,' Ned grinned, straightening up in the chair. 'Uncle Charlie won't go less we're scraping the bottom of the salt barrel or the coffee's down to a handful of beans.'

'Ah, I don't like nattering with strangers like you do, Ned,' Charlie said dismissively. 'I'd rather be out on the range than hemmed in by town-folk.'

'Maybe there'll be a letter from Johnny,' Ned said brightly, full of anticipation. 'He said he'd write soon.'

'Soon for Johnny's never so soon as it is for other folk,' Charlie said laconically. 'He'll write when he writes.'

'You'd tell me if there was news, wouldn't you, Uncle Charlie?' Ned asked with a sudden upsurge of uncertainty. All of his news of Johnny was filtered through Charlie, and although Ned trusted him he also knew that Charlie was protective of him. Sometimes when he read the letters Ned heard the smallest of pauses, as if Charlie was figuring what to say and what to leave out.

'Yeah, I'd tell you, Ned,' Charlie said firmly. 'He just ain't bothered to pick up a pen – that's all.'

'I guess so,' Ned nodded.

He stretched out his legs toward the fire, feeling the heat creeping into the cloth of his pants. It was quiet now outside. Even the coyotes had stopped their noise. The smell of tobacco and wood smoke wreathed through the air, and just for now the world felt perfect, even with Johnny gone.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

The Fort was always a place of hubbub after the predictable and natural sounds of the canyons about the Tallon ranch. Ned saw it in his mind as it had been four years ago, but there was no doubt it had changed some in that time. He heard the sounds of the place growing bigger most times he visited – nails being pounded into lumber as board houses went up, new and varied accents on Main Street. Time had been that everyone knew him, for good or for bad, in Fort Defiance. These days there were more new folks than old as everyone pushed west in search of more room or more money or just the sight of new land.

The old post office felt the same as always, though. Same scent of aged wood and dust and paper, same sounds, same voices behind the counter even if some of the men asking for letters were strangers.

'No, there's no letter from Johnny, I'm sorry,' Mr Laughton said, putting his hands down flat on the counter with a soft sound. 'Nothing at all for you Tallons.'

'Fine, Mr Laughton. Thanks,' Ned said with a slow nod, trying not to let the disappointment crowd out his good mood at being in town. 'Next time, maybe.'

'Maybe,' Laughton nodded, but the doubt in his voice was quite obvious. 'How have you been, young Edward?' he asked, beginning to shuffle papers on the counter while he talked. 'Mrs Laughton was asking after you. Don't see you in town often these days.'

Mrs Laughton had been the school teacher, back when she was still Miss Olson. Ned remembered her as always kind, despite the fact that when she tried to teach him he sat with his eyes roaming about the classroom, looking at anything but his slate and books. She had told him once that his inquisitive mind made up in some part for his lack of application. He closed his hands instinctively as he remembered all the times she had had to switch him for not learning his lessons.

'I'm doing just fine, Mr Laughton,' he smiled. 'Ranch keeps me busy, is all.'

'Sure it does, Ned,' Mr Laughton said in a quiet voice.

The silence swelled and filled the room – and then Ben broke it by saying, 'Don't suppose there's a letter for me there? Name's Shelby.'

'Ah, yes, Mr Shelby,' Mr Laughton said, turning away from the counter towards the high ranks of pigeon holes that covered the back wall. 'Something came in for you Friday, I'm certain of it. Yes, here it is.'

'Is it from Jane, Ben?' Ned asked with a flash of joy. Ben had been waiting on this letter with such eagerness.

'Yeah, it's from Jane,' he said. There was a rustle of paper as he slipped the letter into his pocket. 'You excuse me for a moment, Ned?'

'Oh, sure,' he nodded. He turned back to the counter as Ben wandered away. 'They putting up more houses behind Main Street?' he asked Mr Laughton.

'Yes, one or five,' Laughton said with a short laugh. 'The lumber mill's never done such good business. This place won't be a fort much longer if they keep going – they'll have to start building outside the stockade.'

'I guess people ain't so scared of the Indians no more.'

'Oh, the Indians will be moved on soon enough,' Laughton shrugged. 'Folks know that, and they're coming in beforehand to get their claims set up.'

'The Indians have been here forever,' Ned murmured. It was odd to think of the wide, steep canyons and the dusty ground without Indian ponies and Indian noises echoing off the land.

'This is a settler's land,' Laughton said with conviction. 'The Indians don't use it. They don't farm, barely even raise cattle. No, it's best they move on, let folks that can make something of the place work the land without the fear of being scalped in their sleep.'

Ned rotated his hat in his hands, feeling the felt brim between his fingers, soft and greasy with wear. He didn't know what to say to Mr Laughton. He didn't like to contradict him, but he didn't agree with what he said.

'Ben?' he asked, turning about and listening.

'Your friend went out onto the sidewalk,' Laughton said. 'Who is he, anyway? Friend of Charlie's?'

Ned shook his head. 'Friend of Johnny's. Ben served with him down in Tennessee.'

'Oh,' Mr Laughton said, with just an edge of surprise in his voice. 'He's waiting for Johnny to come home, is he?'

'Yeah, helping out on the ranch while he does.'

'Well,' Laughton said. He was silent for a moment, then said with some reluctance, 'Ned, when Johnny does get back, you take care, won't you? Some folks here aren't so fond of Johnny. Take care you don't catch the worst edge of the storms that get stirred up when he's about. Here, let me give you a hand,' he added, coming round the counter and taking Ned's arm as he turned toward the door.

'Thanks, Mr Laughton,' Ned nodded. 'Remember me to Miss Olson – I mean, to Mrs Laughton – won't you?'

'I sure will, Ned.'

The sun struck Ned's face as they walked out onto the board sidewalk, not hot, but warmer than the shade in the post office. He put his hat back on and turned his head, listening for Ben. There were horses nearby, probably tied to a hitching post – he could hear their small movements and the metallic chinks of their tack as they stood patiently waiting. He and Ben had come with the wagon and tied up outside the store across the road and there was no way of discerning their horses from the others at that distance.

'Mr Shelby,' Laughton said, and Ben's boots thumped on the boards as he came over to them.

'Sorry, Ned. Got caught up in reading.'

'Ah, that's fine, Ben,' Ned grinned. 'Thanks, Mr Laughton,' he said as the older man patted his arm gruffly and moved away. 'Ben, what do you say we go over to the saloon before we get them things in the store? I ain't been inside of that place since last spring.'

'Sure. I could use a drink.'

Ben touched Ned's arm and Ned slipped his hand behind Ben's elbow, letting his fingers touch the roughness of his coat sleeve lightly. It was only a few yards down the sidewalk to the saloon. Everything on Main Street was bunched together in the centre as if it were huddling against an attack, as far away from the fort walls as possible.

The saloon doors swung open with a clatter, swinging back against Ned's arm as he pushed through them. The conversation inside died to a soft murmur as he and Ben stepped inside.

'You sure this place is a good idea?' Ben asked in an undertone. 'Folks don't seem overwhelmed at us being in here.'

'Who's behind the bar?' Ned asked.

'Dark-haired lady in a plaid dress, and a blond guy.'

'Don't sound like Dave Parker's in,' Ned murmured. 'We'll be fine. Dave don't like Johnny any, but they've got no reason to quarrel with me. Besides, this is the only saloon in town.'

'Well, I guess it is,' Ben laughed. The conversation was already beginning to pick up again, perhaps as the patrons realised it was not Johnny but a stranger that Ned had come in with. 'What're you drinking, Ned?'

'Whiskey, and I'm buying,' Ned said firmly, jangling the coins in his pocket. 'Just point me at the bar.'

'Ned, I don't want to be taking your money,' Ben said awkwardly.

'You're not,' Ned said firmly. 'If Johnny was here first thing he'd do would be buy you a drink.'

'Maybe,' Ben said. 'But Johnny ain't here.'

'No, he ain't,' Ned said, turning to the bar without waiting for Ben's help. 'That's why I'm buying.' He rapped his knuckles briefly on the wooden surface. 'Can I get two whiskeys?'

'Sure thing, Ned.'

The bartender was closer than he thought, and he recognised his voice, too.

'Dan?' he asked. 'Dan Walker? That you?'

Dan had sat at the next desk to his in the school where Miss Olson taught, slyly pulling the ribbons undone on the girls' braids and writing fool rhymes on his slate and then rubbing them away before Miss Olson saw them, but not before Ned was almost bursting with giggles that he had to keep in.

'Yeah, that's me, Ned,' Dan said, putting two glasses down on the counter with sharp taps. The scent of whiskey sharpened the air as he poured out the measures.

'You're working in the saloon now, Dan? Thought you'd been away?'

'Yeah, I'd been off in the army like most everyone else, but I'm back now. That's a dime, Ned.'

'Oh, yeah.'

He felt in his pocket and drew out a handful of coins, slipping his fingertip over their faces. He didn't often have cause to use money since Uncle Charlie usually handled the buying of goods. All those little metal discs felt the same.

'You need a little help, Ned?' Dan asked. There was an odd tone to his voice then, as if he seemed glad of Ned's difficulty.

'There's your dime,' Ben said shortly, coming up beside Ned and picking a couple of cents and three cent nickels out of his palm. 'Thanks for the drink, Ned. I'll carry them to the table.'

'Dan sounded strange,' Ned said in a low voice as he followed Ben to the table. 'Like there was something eating him up…'

'Being away at war eats some folks up,' Ben said softly as they sat. 'Some folks get to thinking that those that stayed at home got it easy, no matter why they stayed.'

Ned closed his fingers about the hard sides of the shot glass and then drank the whiskey in one swift swallow. He would have gone off to war with Johnny if he could have. He'd been well into conscription age when the war started up, but he would have volunteered anyway. He would have stood alongside Johnny in his uniform and hefted a rifle and fought the Confederates and brought his brother home safe at the end of it instead of waiting at the ranch while Johnny did God knew what somewhere out in the wide world. Everything would have been different, if only –

'I didn't choose this,' was all he said as he put the glass back down.

'No one's saying you did, Ned.' Ben picked up the empty glasses and stood. 'I'll get the next one,' he said. 'Hell, no, I'll get us a bottle. I reckon you could do with getting rip-roaring drunk, Ned. What d'you say?'

Ned laughed. 'Long as you can drive home at the end of it, cause I won't be no use to you.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The wagon was like a boat, shifting and sloping across a rough sea. The sound of the horses and the rolling wheels and the creaking of the woodwork could be the sounds of a sailboat, maybe. Ned had never been in a boat. Never even seen one. But the floor of the wagon box against his back was like the rolling of a boat over the ocean.

'I never seen the stars look that bright,' Ben said in an awed voice beside him. Ben was lying on the floor of the wagon too. 'Look like they're bout ready to fall down outta the sky on us. Ned, you ever seen stars look that bright?'

Ned lay and squinted, turning his head this way and that.

'I can't see no stars, Ben,' he said finally. 'I'm blind, you fool.'

'Oh. Yeah, that's right,' Ben murmured. 'Well, I never seen them that bright. Look like fires in the heavens. White hot fires waiting to fall down on us.'

'We didn't get none of them things in the store,' Ned said suddenly, moving his hand over the planks over the wagon box and feeling the emptiness beside him. He moved his other hand out and felt the softness of Ben's coat over his warm body, but no store goods anywhere. 'Ben, who's driving the wagon?'

Ben sat up with a lurching awkwardness, and then lay down again with a thump.

'I guess the horses are, cause I ain't, and you ain't, Ned.'

'Where are we?'

Ben sat up again. 'Well, I'll be darned. We're bout a hundred yards from the house. Them horses have pulled us all the way home. Your Uncle Charlie's in the door with a lamp. Looks kinda mad…'

Ned laughed, and then he couldn't stop laughing. His laughter rang out against the bare hills and echoed back at him, loud but insignificant against the largeness of the world. In the corral a horse whinnied, and one of the horses hitched to the wagon responded, and Uncle Charlie shouted something across the wide open space between the house and the wagon.

'Oh, I ain't been this drunk in a long time,' Ned said finally. His ribs and throat were aching with the laughter but he tried to look sober as the horses came to a halt near the house and Uncle Charlie hauled him none too gently out of the wagon.

'I've been waiting on that cornmeal all day,' Charlie said irritably, letting go of Ned's arm and stomping back to the wagon. 'Where's the cornmeal, Ned?'

Ned swayed. The ground didn't seem too level under his feet. Then he collapsed to the ground, pressing his forehead against the cold dirt and laughing fit to burst.

'We ain't got no cornmeal,' he wheezed, his mouth close to the ground. 'And we ain't got no new hatchet blade, and we ain't got no pound of nails neither. We forgot it, Uncle Charlie. I'm sorry, Uncle Charlie…'

If Charlie replied he didn't hear him. There was a hand under his arm, hauling him to his feet and he was staggering through the darkness into the house and then falling into his bed, clothes and all. His bed felt so soft after the hard, lurching wagon boards. His hat was still jammed on his head, but he didn't care. His chest felt empty and aching after the laughter. His eyes were wet with tears. He slept, and dreamt about Ben and Johnny and the faces of men in Fort Defiance, and about the feeling of Nellie Carlton all around him in her pa's barn.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

'Oh man…'

Ned rolled over and pulled his blanket over his head. The cloth caught awkwardly on something and he fumbled with his hand to feel his hat still pressed down on his head. He pushed it off blearily. His skin felt tight over his forehead and cheekbones, his skull throbbing with a headache that seemed to reach all the way down into his spine and shoulders.

There was a clattering nearby of a pan on the stove top and the smell of pork fat and pancakes and coffee was thick in the air. It was all he could do to not be sick.

A hand touched his shoulder through the blanket and shook him with gentle firmness.

'Wake up, Ned.'

'Is it morning, Ben?' he asked, finally pushing the blanket away and sitting up, stiff in his coat and clothes. Someone had taken his boots off, but otherwise he was dressed just as he had been when he had fallen into bed.

'Near as damn it afternoon,' Ben said, moving away and rattling the pan on the stove again. 'Your Uncle Charlie's gone back to the Fort to pick up that stuff we forgot. I think he's sore at me for getting you so drunk.'

'Ah, it weren't your fault, Ben. I'm a grown man,' Ned said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and then stopping with a grimace as his head throbbed. His tongue felt like a dead thing in his mouth.

'Some coffee help?' Ben asked, clattering the coffee pot against a mug as he poured.

'Yeah, thanks,' Ned said, taking the mug and letting the hot, rich drink soak into the insides of his mouth and throat. 'Oh, man, it's been a while since I felt this bad.'

He sat silent for a while, just drinking and listening to the ticking of the stove and the quiet all around and letting the pulsing of blood through his temples calm to a dull throb. He winced and pressed his lips together as Ben clattered the pan on the stove again, humming cheerfully as if he had done no more last night than sit and smoke tobacco.

'How come you ain't feeling it?' Ned asked him, rubbing the scratching grit of sleep out of his eyes with his hand.

'I've been up longer than you. I felt it, believe me, specially when your Uncle Charlie was banging about the place getting ready to go out. Thought for a minute you might be dead, the way you slept through it.'

Ned laughed quietly. 'You get used to Uncle Charlie's racket after a while. He says I'd sleep clear through a tornado.'

'You got any appetite yet?'

'Not yet. Maybe in a while.'

'You feel clear enough to get out on the range later?'

'Yeah, I will,' he nodded. 'Soon as I get enough coffee in me.'

'Good. Charlie thought he saw a heifer limping out there yesterday but he couldn't get a rope on her. I want to see she's all right, and I may be better with the lasso than you, but you're mighty good at calming a scared cow.'

'Ah, I just talk to them, is all,' Ned said dismissively. 'They know not to be scared if you talk real gentle.'

'Some folks ain't so good at talking.'

Ned set his coffee down just under the edge of the bed and stood unsteadily.

'You all right, Ned?' Ben asked, catching his arm.

'Yeah,' he said.

He went to the back door and opened it. The air was biting cold on his face, making his scalp tighten again in a sharp, all over ache. Fall was turning steadily into winter and these dry, clear skies and the leafless land did nothing to preserve the warmth. The dirt was soft and stinging cold under his bare feet as he stepped down onto the ground.

He stepped along the wall a little way with his hand on the stones and then peed on the ground, feeling a glorious creeping relief as he emptied his bladder. Heat and an animal scent rose up from the dirt.

He walked around the house then to the well and drew up a bucket of water, cold and fresh from deep in the earth. He drank and sluiced his face in it and then took off his coat and shirt and splashed the water over his chest and back. It was biting cold but it felt good and fresh after sleeping in his clothes. He raised his face to the sky and let cold water drip from his hair onto his back, happy despite the headache. This was a good, clean place, so much better than the crowded town with its fleeting pleasures. He held a map of this place in his head and could visualise the jumbled stone walls and the crooked fences and the lines of the cliffs against the sky. Nothing ever changed here.

The door opened behind him and Ben called, 'Ned, you ready to eat?'

He used his shirt to rub some of the cold water from his hair and face and turned back to the house.

'Yeah, I'm ready.'

'Ain't nothing better than coffee and cold water after drinking that much whiskey,' Ben said as Ned came back into the warmth inside. 'I put your coffee on the table. There's a heap of pancakes on there too. You'd better get eating. We've got work to do.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It was a little warmer outside after noon, but not much. Ned's fingers were cold and fumbling and he was looking forward to being able to slip them into Doggone's mane as he rode to share some of the horse's heat. Old Doggone stood patiently by the hitch rail as Ned felt for the saddle blanket.

'Ah, this Doggone sure is a good horse,' he said, feeling his way along the horse's neck to his smooth, wide back. 'Don't need no lead rope with him.'

He spread out the saddle blanket, smoothing out the rucks with his palms.

'I wonder why you ain't got no word from Johnny,' Ben said slowly, starting to saddle up his own horse. 'It's way past the time you're supposed to be hearing it.'

'Yeah. I wonder what's holding him,' Ned mused. Sometimes it seemed like Johnny didn't want to come home. He'd been free to come back for months now and he still hadn't managed to find the time. 'He sure will be grateful to you when he gets here though, Ben.'

'Can't tell,' Ben said shortly.

'For sure he will,' Ned insisted, grabbing the saddle in both hands and slipping it onto Doggone's back. 'You know Johnny. He'd be glad to see a friend of his.'

'I reckon he will,' Ben said, but he still sounded pensive and distracted.

Ned had a vague memory of Ben last night wanting to talk more about the lack of a letter from Johnny than the letter he had got from his wife, but most of last night was such a blur to him that he couldn't recall clearly what had been said. Maybe it was just the lingering sickness from the whiskey that was dampening Ben's mood. Ned felt bright and fresh now after almost a pint of coffee and a belly full of pancakes, but Ben had been up longer and maybe it was catching up with him again.

'Uncle Charlie says for the first time in months we ain't had nothing whittled off our herd. Says you been a big help, Ben,' Ned said, hoping to boost Ben's mood.

'Well, it ain't me,' Ben said diffidently. 'It's the gun that helps.'

Ned laughed. 'It's the way you sling that gun. Uncle Charlie says you may be near as fast as Johnny is.'

'Could be.'

'Course, I ain't never seen you draw, but, oh man, I can remember Johnny,' Ned said, filling up with nostalgia. 'Them guns'd come out of their holsters faster than a snake's forked tongue. Twice as nasty.'

He remembered the sunlight glinting on Johnny's guns as he slipped them up from his hip and readied them for firing. Johnny always seemed taller than him in memory and Ned always seemed to be looking upwards at what he was doing. He'd never been able to draw as slickly as Johnny had, no matter how long Johnny had spent teaching him.

He could hear Johnny's voice in his head. _Draw and shoot, draw and shoot, Ned. Do it real smooth. Aim in your mind before you even get _'_em out the holster. That way you won't have to wait before you kill the bastards._

Johnny was the best sharp shooter in this part of Arizona. No wonder he had come through the war alive and with all those honours he'd written home about.

Ned rested his arms on the saddle a moment, moving his fingers over the smooth contours of the stirrup.

'Ben, was you there when General Sheridan gave him all them medals, made that speech saying how proud he was to have Johnny in his command?' he asked. He felt fleetingly envious of all that time Ben must have spent with Johnny while Ned had been back here on the ranch.

'I reckon I was somewhere about,' Ben murmured.

'Were you there when Mr Lincoln shook his hand?'

'I don't think so.'

'You got any brothers, Ben?' Ned asked curiously as Ben walked his horse over toward him.

'Did have one.'

'Did have?' He paused momentarily with his hands on the straps. 'Younger or older?'

'Younger.'

'What happened to your brother?'

'Got killed in the war,' Ben said simply.

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,' Ned said, sobered by that statement.

No matter how far away Johnny was, at least he was alive. He had come through the war and was free to roam about the country wherever he liked. Ben's brother was cold and still, maybe buried somewhere far away, maybe never even found to be buried. Thank God, Johnny was alive…

He finished tacking up the horse in silence. It was hard to know what to say to Ben after that. He remembered Dan Walker yesterday, and how Ben had said that some folks were eaten up by war. He couldn't imagine the things that Ben must have seen and the way he must have felt, and the things that all those thousands of young men across the country had seen and felt. No wonder Ben was happy to be stopping here, away from all of that horror and fighting and anything associated with it.

He slipped his foot into the stirrup and mounted Doggone in one swift movement.

'Oh, man, I sure wish Johnny was here.'

Ben mounted his own horse. 'So do I,' he said, kicking his horse to a slow walk.

Doggone followed with almost no prompting, and finally Ned pushed a hand under the horse's mane, letting his fingers warm while the ground was steady and predictable. Johnny may not be here, but having Ben was just as good, or maybe more so. He hadn't ridden out on the range so much, and with so much useful purpose, in years, but Ben was always willing and eager to have him ride alongside. He felt needed, and being needed was a wonderful thing.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Cows smelt different to horses. Less clean, somehow. They were a deal more stupid, too. Ned stood with his hands on the rough rope halter that Ben had made of his lasso as the cow snorted and mooed gently in a soft, scared way. He rubbed his hand over the animal's muzzle and felt the wet slime of its nose under his palm. The cow jerked its head and he murmured to it, scratching his fingers now into the hair above its eyes, digging hard against the thick, resilient skull in the rough way cows liked so much. Ben was at the back end of it, and the last thing he wanted was for the heifer to panic and kick.

'You see anything, Ben?' he asked, raising his voice.

'Not much,' Ben said shortly. Ned could hear him scraping at the cow's hoof with a pick. 'Nothing up in the hoof. Maybe she twisted it. She don't seem so bad now. Think we should let her loose and see how she goes.'

'Just let me know when,' Ned said, digging his fingers under the halter to loosen it a little.

'Yeah, go on, Ned,' Ben said, straightening up. 'I'm out of the way.'

Ned loosed the rope and heard Ben slap the heifer firmly on the behind. She shifted nervously, and then began to run.

'Yeah, she'll be fine,' Ben said, coming to stand beside Ned as the heifer lolloped back over the rocky ground to the rest of the herd. 'Still limping some, but I don't reckon it's bothering her much. She can run just fine.'

Ned stood and listened. He could barely tell that the cow was limping – there was just the slightest falter in the sound of her hooves on the dirt. As she reached the herd some of the other cows lowed and she echoed their greeting back at them.

'That's a grateful cow,' Ned grinned.

'Grateful we let her go,' Ben said. 'She's too stupid to be grateful we caught her and checked her over.'

'Yeah, there ain't too much brains between them,' Ned nodded.

'You all right there for a minute, Ned?' Ben asked. 'I'll ride up onto the ridge a moment where I can see the herd better. I want to count 'em – be sure we're not losing any of your Uncle Charlie's stock.'

'Oh, sure,' Ned nodded.

Ben caught his coat sleeve and walked with him back to the horses.

'There's your horse, Ned. I won't be long.'

Ned took the thin leather of the reins as Ben handed them to him and felt his way up to Doggone's muzzle. The horse snickered and blew hot breath into his palms.

Ned stood still and listened to his surroundings. Ben had said that the herd was down in a shallow valley and he could hear the way their lowing was constrained by the hills and rocks around. Some of the cliffs around here rose for what seemed like miles into the sky, making hard, sheer faces for the sounds to echo from. He remembered looking up at them in awe when he was younger, his head tilting back until he almost fell over. They looked like the old cathedrals he saw in books at school, only bigger and somehow more sacred because they were made by God out of one huge stone instead of by many stones and men's hands. Creation was such a powerful and beautiful thing and the work of men could hardly approach it in wonder.

He shuffled his feet just to make some noise that was closer to him than those cows and the echoes of their noise. The world was very big and far away from his hands, the cliffs too huge to grasp and the sky too wide above him. If he were alone out here he wouldn't know where to turn to get home. Doggone was staid and quiet and seemed insignificant against the open space, but the horse's eyes were invaluable to him out here.

Somewhere above him he could hear the coarse, guttural cry of a condor in flight. And then, louder than the bird but faint behind the noise of the cattle he heard the clattering sound of horses' hooves.

'Ben?' he called. 'Oh, Ben?'

He heard the shuffle of a horse turning and the light musical sound of the metal in the bridle as Ben rode his horse back down the slope.

'There's a bunch of riders coming this way,' he said as Ben stopped beside him.

'Yeah,' Ben said after a moment. 'Indians.'

'How many of 'em are there?' Ned asked tensely. The sound was of hoof-falls overlaying hoof-falls, too many for him to separate.

Ben was quiet for a moment, counting. 'Looks like about twenty five.'

'I wonder why so many.'

'They're rounding up the cattle,' Ben said in surprise. 'Looks like they're gonna take the whole herd.'

Ned frowned in confusion. It didn't sound right.

'We always gave them a few cattle for nothing, just to stay friendly,' he said. He couldn't imagine a reason for the Indians rounding up the cattle but to take them away, and he couldn't think of a reason for the Indians to take them away.

He heard the click of Ben's gun as he slid it out of the holster and he snapped quickly, 'Hey, don't do it, Ben! I know them, they know me. Let me handle it.'

One of the horses separated from the others and cantered closer and Ned exhaled in relief as he heard Ben slip his gun away. Ben was a good shot, but he couldn't take on twenty-five Indians with rifles.

The horse slewed to a halt in front of them and the rider spoke clear and loud above the sound of the cattle.

'Because you are with him, we did not kill you. But you move with gun again, we will.'

'Brave Bear?' Ned asked, almost certain of that deep, solid voice.

'It is Brave Bear who speaks.'

Ned relaxed a small amount. He had spoken with Brave Bear many times – even sat with him outside the house once smoking and talking about cattle as if he were just another one of the ranchers hereabout. He had no quarrel with Brave Bear.

'Brave Bear, this man is my good friend,' he said, gesturing towards Ben. 'He's my brother's good friend. Now, I give you my word he won't harm any Indians. What is it you want?'

'We want _all_ cattle,' Brave Bear said in a loud, firm voice.

'_All?_' Ned echoed, puzzlement washing over him.'We've always given the Indians cattle when they needed it. We've always been good friends. To take all my cattle is not the act of a friend.'

'Indian can have no white friends,' Brave Bear said with a ring of finality.

'Why? We've proved we were!'

'We will take all your cattle, because we need them. Do not try to stop us, because you will be killed.'

Ned held himself very still. He didn't know what to think. Those cattle were their livelihood. But there was nothing he could do. Even if he had perfect sight and a gun at his hip, he and Ben would have no chance of stopping so many men from taking the cattle. He listened to the sound as Brave Bear pulled his horse about and cantered away and then as the rest of the Indians gathered about the herd, whooping and crying to move the cattle on. The cattle lowed in protest, but he could hear them beginning to run like the horses.

'Ben?' Ned asked quietly.

'Yeah, Ned.'

'They didn't do it, did they, Ben?' he asked in disbelief. 'Brave Bear's English ain't so good. Maybe he meant – '

'He meant _all_ the cattle,' Ben said in a hard voice. 'They've taken the herd, Ned, every last one of them.'


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Ned stood still on the ground, listening to the sounds of the cattle and the Indians crying out around them. The noises grew fainter as they moved away behind the undulating land. _All the cattle…_ They lost a cow now and then through theft or illness. Sometimes they gave one away. But all the cattle… That was their livelihood being herded away. Money was always scarce as it was, but what could they do without cattle?

Ben slipped off his horse and came to stand beside him, putting one hand on his arm in a wordless gesture of sympathy. Right now Ned didn't know how to accept it. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to be right on top of one of the cliffs screaming at the sky with no one to see him or stop him.

He turned around, hiding his face against Doggone's side, helplessness building into a wave inside him. He knew it would be no different even if he could see. He couldn't take on twenty-five Indians with a gun. But in that moment he wanted to see so badly that the wanting burned through him and made his head giddy with need. The helplessness turned into anger and anger spurred him to movement.

He kept his hand tight about Doggone's reins and with the other hand he flailed at Ben's horse and shouted a wordless noise of anger. He heard the horse start away in fright and heard Ben's shout of surprise and as Ben turned to go after his horse Ned mounted his own and kicked his heels into its flanks and shouted, 'Hi-_ya_!' with all the fury that he would not put into the kick.

Doggone skipped against the unaccustomed anger, and then he galloped. Ned tipped his head back and let his face catch the wind until his eyes were streaming with it. The pounding of Doggone's hooves resounded up through the horse's bones and body and into Ned's body, jarring every inch of him with firm, ceaseless jolts.

Somewhere behind he heard Ben shouting, but he didn't listen. He kicked the horse on again, faster, and let him run where he wanted, not knowing or caring where he was going. This pure, blessed freedom was all he wanted, with nothing but endless, invisible sky above him and dust whirling through the air and the sound of the pounding hooves sometimes echoing from rocks and sometimes travelling so far there was nothing to echo from. He let all thought jolt out of his mind and all anger jolt out of his body until his chest was an empty place that heaved with the movement of air.

Eventually the horse tired and slowed, and finally stopped. Ned let himself slump forward so he was bent over the animal's mane, his arms about its neck. There was sweat streaking down its short, soft pelt. He could feel Doggone's blood pulsing, slower than his own but fast for the horse. His own heart was beating against his ribs and against his clothes and through into the horse's body, and suddenly the void made by the burnt away anger was filled again with a swelling helplessness.

He would not cry. Tallon men didn't do that. He hadn't even cried when he had woken from that beating by the Parker boys and found his clear sight turned to a dark and darkening mess.

He patted Doggone softly on the neck and murmured praise into his ear. He was a good horse.

'Go on home, Doggone,' he said gently. He felt as if all of the strength had been taken out of his lungs. He couldn't muster a shout if he wanted to.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

He rode back with his body still hugged over the horse's neck and his arms clasped about it. He felt so tired he could not move. His bones ached under their shroud of flesh and clothes. Doggone walked slowly and quietly, but did not hesitate in his movements. He knew where he was going.

Finally the horse stopped and Ned sat for a while, eyes closed, listening. There was the wind hitting something solid nearby and cutting through the rails of a fence. They were the sounds of home. He slipped off Doggone's back and cast about with his hand, keeping one hand on the reins to be sure the horse would not wander away. The back of his fingers hit wood with a sting and he ran his hand over it. The contours of the bar were as familiar as a face to him.

'I'll be darned if you haven't taken me right back to the hitch rail,' he murmured, looping the horse's reins about the bar. He laid his arms over the wood and rested there. There was a tiredness in him that had nothing to do with riding.

'Ned, you're a goddamn fool sometimes.'

His head jerked up. Uncle Charlie was there behind him. He hadn't even heard him come out. There was a clatter as Charlie moved as if he were carrying something metal.

'I guess I can ride if I want to,' Ned said, tilting his hat back straight on his head.

'I guess you can, but you're blind, Ned.' There was a tremble of anger and spent fear in Charlie's voice. 'Ben's been out two hours looking for you. He thought you'd gone after those Indians. What if that horse had thrown you?'

'Doggone's never thrown no one,' Ned said, patting the horse's neck. 'And I wouldn't have gone after the Indians. I'm not that much of a fool.'

He went to the well and hauled up a bucket of water to bring to the horse. Doggone dipped his head and drank as if he had been thirsty for days.

Charlie sighed. Then he clapped an arm around Ned's shoulders and squeezed briefly but firmly. The scent of sweat and woodsmoke and tobacco rose up from his coat.

'We'll be all right, Ned,' he said. 'We'll work it out. We've lost cattle before.'

'The whole herd, Uncle Charlie,' Ned said desperately.

'Might be we get them back,' Charlie said. 'The army might – '

Ned began to loosen the straps on Doggone's saddle. The least he could do was give him a proper rub down after such a ride.

'The army ain't going to go out looking for our cattle,' he said. 'If we can just hold out until Johnny comes home, maybe we can buy some new stock, but – '

He trailed off. The fear was growing in him day by day that Johnny didn't want to come home, but he would not voice it aloud. That would make it real.

'All right, Ned,' Charlie said briskly, taking the saddle from him as he lifted it off Doggone's sweat-chilled back. 'Take care of that horse. I'll try to let Ben know you're back.'

He wandered away from the house and set up a banging of metal on metal. It sounded as if he were beating on the skillet with a ladle.

'Ben!' he shouted at the top of his lungs. 'Ben Shelby!'

Ned turned back to the horse. He was ashamed for the worry he'd caused but he felt better for the long, pounding ride out alone with no one else to see his face. He felt better for the danger of it, and for coming home safely. He felt sometimes as if they were living on a cliff edge, always in danger of falling. It was good to remind himself of the certainty of his beating heart and his red blood and his solid bones.

He patted Doggone briefly and went to fetch the old pail of grooming equipment. As he stroked the stiff brush over the horse's flanks the remnants of his anger and helplessness began to dissolve away. He smiled briefly to himself. Maybe if they couldn't make money at anything else he could find a job somewhere grooming horses. He could tend to a horse just as well as any man with sight and he loved to be around the creatures.

'Ben coming yet, Uncle Charlie?' he asked, pausing in his brushing. Charlie had stopped banging the skillet.

'Yeah, he's just working down the slope,' Charlie said. 'I'll – er – go and set the water boiling. You'll both be parched.'

Ned stood still, listening, only his hand moving as he stroked Doggone's sides in smooth, soft movements. He began to hear the noises of Ben's horse and he waited in silence as he came weaving down the slope to the house.

Ben dismounted and stood without speaking for a moment at the hitch rail. Then he said, 'What d'you do that for, Ned? Scare my horse away so I couldn't go after you?'

Ned breathed out slowly, his hand on Doggone's side, feeling the movements of his gut under the solid tent of his hide.

'I guess I wanted to be alone,' he said. 'I'm sorry, Ben.'

'Did you want to break your neck and die alone?' Ben asked with the remnants of anger in his voice.

'I didn't think of dying,' Ned said. 'I wanted to feel like I was living.'

Ben clapped a hand onto his back and left it there. 'You're a fool, Ned,' he said.

'Uncle Charlie already told me that.'

'Maybe you need telling twice.'

Ned pressed his hand over the horse's pelt. It was smooth and glossy with brushing. There wasn't much more he could do for him except put him in the corral and let him rest. He untied the reins from the hitch rail and began to lead the horse towards the corral – or the horse led him. Doggone knew where he was going well enough.

Ben walked alongside him, close enough to bump against his arm. The air was cold around them but Ben's coat was colder and it smelt of sagebrush and tobacco, of his horse and of fresh, dusty air.

'You want to talk it out, Ned?' he asked.

'There ain't much to talk about,' Ned said.

'There's something,' Ben said. 'A man don't go off like that unless he's got something churning inside.'

'All our cattle are gone,' Ned said bitterly. 'Ain't that enough?''

'You'll get more cattle. It's not just that.'

'Maybe… A feller gets scared, Ben,' he admitted, turning to the corral gate and running his hands over the latch. He didn't want Ben watching his face. He let Doggone into the corral and let him run loose.

'All men get scared.'

Ned smiled dryly, and nodded, but the fear was still tight inside him.

'All this time the Indians've been our friends,' he said. 'Now they hate us just like any other white men. They'd as soon kill us. What if Johnny don't come home and Uncle Charlie gets killed out on the range? Who'd take on the burden of a fellow like me? I ain't no use to no one.'

'That ain't true, Ned,' Ben said quickly. 'You're plenty of use on the ranch.'

'I can't ranch on my own.'

'That don't mean nothing. No man runs a ranch without help sometimes.'

'Yeah,' Ned said slowly. It was easy for Ben to say that, but Uncle Charlie was getting old, and the Indians were mad at all white men, and what if Johnny didn't come home?

'Come inside, Ned, and stop dwelling on what can't be changed,' Ben told him, catching at his arm as he turned from the corral gate. 'You still got the hog and you've got a sack of cornmeal and you've got some money in your pocket. You'll last until you can get more cattle, and I reckon Uncle Charlie's going to outlive the both of us – specially if you keep on riding like that.'

'Maybe so,' Ned said with a short laugh, trying to turn his mind round to the positives. He stood in the quiet open space with Ben's hand on his arm and tilted his head upwards towards the sky. The wind brushed at his face in the way that it did when the temperature changed with nightfall. 'Is it dark yet, Ben?'

'Not yet. Getting that way – getting kinda purple about the edges.'

Ned laughed again. 'I know what you mean,' he said, beginning to walk on again.

He didn't have to think about where he was walking because Ben's hand was on his arm, and he didn't have to worry about the burden of most of the chores on Uncle Charlie because Ben helped out. The last few weeks with Ben here had been more fun than all the time since Johnny had left for the war. Ben had been a boon to the ranch. And Johnny would come home before Christmas, and Johnny would buy cattle.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Night crept around the house like a soft, loving thing, settling silence over the land, sending the birds to their roosts and animals back to their shelters. The stove ticked and pumped heat out into the air in the house, and tobacco smoke curled in and out of Ned's lungs with each breath. But there was a difference in the land outside the house. The Indians were no longer friends. There was a silent menace somewhere in the quiet depths of the night.

'Ned, how about some music?' Charlie said, breaking the silence. 'You ain't brought out that fiddle lately.'

'You play the fiddle, Ned?' Ben asked in surprise, his chair creaking as he turned to look at him.

'Some,' Ned said, shaking his head. He felt under his bed and drew out the polished wooden case. 'It was my pa's. He taught me some, but he died before I could learn it all.'

'He's better than he thinks,' Charlie said in a low voice, leaning close to Ben. 'Go on, Ned. It's a good skill. You ought to practice.'

Ned ran his tongue over his lips, reading the unspoken addendum to that statement. His fiddle playing could be useful if he was left alone with no other means of earning money. But Charlie was right. He took the instrument out of the box and touched the strings lightly. It needed tuning, but that was no surprise. He rubbed rosin onto the bow and tuned it and then lifted it again to his chin and began to play. Charlie's accordion wailed and then came in to partner his playing, and the music drove out the silence outside.

'Don't bow it so hard,' Charlie said above the music, and Ned relaxed his grip on the bow. He was letting tension spill over into his playing.

'Better, Uncle Charlie?' he asked.

'Your pa'd be proud of you,' Charlie smiled.

Ned smiled silently.

'Uncle Charlie, do you think we'll get them cattle back?' he asked finally, setting the fiddle back down.

'Not those ones, Ned, no,' Charlie said honestly. 'But we'll be all right. Your pa and me started out from nothing when we first came here, built this house with our own hands right here on the ground, built up the herd from a handful of heifers. We can do that again.'

Ned nodded. He packed the fiddle back into its case and slipped it back under the bed.

'I'm bone tired,' he said. 'You mind if I bed down for the night?'

'Go ahead, Ned,' Charlie nodded. 'I'll see to the horses.'

Ned stripped down to his long underwear and buried himself under the blankets and the nine-patch quilt. The ropes creaked under the straw tick as he moved and he settled himself down into the softness. But he couldn't sleep. He lay turned toward the wall, listening to Ben and Uncle Charlie moving quietly about the place. After a few minutes the door banged and then he heard the soft snickering of the horses as Ben or Charlie gave them their feed and saw that the corral was secure. And then they came back in again, talking quietly. Ned lay still with his eyes closed and his hand under his cheek, listening.

'He'll be all right,' Ben was saying as he walked across the room. He sat down and started to unlace his boots. The laces made a slipping noise as he pulled them loose and the ends tapped on the floor. 'He don't think, sometimes, but I've never known anyone as strong or stubborn.'

'Yeah, maybe,' Uncle Charlie said. 'But I'm an old man, Ben, and Ned can't see. There ain't no future for him out here without help. Soon as Johnny comes home he'll sort this place out, but – '

'You really believe Johnny's coming home?' Ben asked.

Charlie was silent. Then he sighed and sat down and said, 'I don't know, Ben. I don't know if he is. And I don't know what Ned's gonna do if he don't.'

Ned clenched his fists under the blankets where Ben and Charlie couldn't see the movement. Johnny would come home. Sure, Johnny had always been restless. He'd always been in some trouble or other. But Johnny had promised him before he left for the war that he'd come through alive and come home. He'd promised that they'd live on the ranch together and build this place up until it was the best in the country. Johnny didn't promise things that he couldn't do. He never did.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

The house was quiet. Uncle Charlie had gone to Fort Defiance for news and provisions. Ben was somewhere in the canyons. With the cattle gone there wasn't much to do about the ranch – hadn't been for two weeks – but Ben rode out occasionally hunting, and to see if by chance any of the cattle had wandered back.

Ned could not help him with that apart from being a companionable presence on the rides so he stayed home and kept the stove burning rather than freezing outside just for the sake of conversation. If he took care he could chop the wood that Charlie hauled from the land about. He could cook too, mixing up cornbread and frying salt pork and boiling up beans so that when Charlie and Ben came in chilled and hungry there was something warm for them to eat. Uncle Charlie didn't like Ned cooking because of the danger of the stove, but he was always happy with the hot food at the end of a long day.

Ned opened the glass front of the clock and touched the hands lightly. It was about three. There was no point in cooking yet and the stove was blazing, a big pile of wood stacked by the side. His time was his own.

He knelt by his bed and pulled out his workbox from underneath. He had been working on the leather in there off and on for days, making a belt for Johnny with Charlie's old tools. Uncle Charlie had picked out a nice stamp with interweaving lines like growing vines and Ned had pressed it into the surface, straight and neat, most of the way along the length. He had found a buckle from an old broken belt and polished it clean and sewn it on with tough, thick thread. All that was left to do was to pierce holes in the other end of the belt and it would be ready for Johnny's Christmas present.

He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down at the table with his mallet and awl. The leather was soft and supple under his hands as he smoothed it over the table. He had already greased and polished it until it felt soft as live skin. Johnny would be proud to wear a belt like that, maybe, that his brother had made. Maybe his face would light with a smile like the ones Ned remembered from years ago, and Uncle Charlie would tell him how happy he looked, and Johnny would clap an arm around Ned's back and give him one of those quick hugs that squeezed so tight it hurt.

He felt in his box, wondering if he had enough leather to make a belt for Ben too. Ben had seemed caught up in his own thoughts recently, as if he were trying to draw himself away from the companionship of Ned and Charlie. Maybe he was missing his wife, feeling the distance between them as Christmas drew closer. It sure would be nice to give him a present too. He wouldn't be expecting that.

He let the lengths of leather trail under his fingers. There was enough for Ben. He could get started on that belt just as soon as he finished Johnny's. He put the scraps back in the box and set the length he was working on straight again. He carefully positioned the awl and made a dent, then felt for the mallet. A few sharp blows and the sharp awl pierced a hole through the leather. He measured a space with his two fingers pressed together, and made another hole.

A noise outside took him by surprise. He snatched the belt and tools beneath the table like a child caught stealing from the candy barrel.

'Ben? Is that you?' he asked as the door opened and a cold draught was sucked into the room.

'Yeah,' Ben said, stepping in through the door and closing it tight.

Ned brought the leather out again and spread it out on the table. 'Sure can't tell. Thought it might be Johnny.'

'Your Uncle Charlie ain't back yet?'

He shook his head, feeling for his place on the leather again.

'Ben, what do you figure on doing after Johnny gets here?' he asked as Ben walked over towards the stove to warm up.

'I don't know.'

'I been talking to Uncle Charlie about you...'

Ben stopped. The soles of his boots rasped on the floor as he turned. 'What about me?'

Ned felt out another space on the belt and began to pound the sharp awl again.

'Well, you being a friend of Johnny's, maybe when he gets back we could build this place up, spread out,' he said hopefully. 'Be partners.'

'I don't know if that's possible,' Ben said. Ned could hear him pouring coffee by the stove. The smell of it swirled into the air.

'Well maybe you'd like to be on your own,' he shrugged. It was reasonable enough that a married man would want some space. 'We'd pitch in and help you build a place. We'd be neighbours, Ben.'

'I wouldn't count on it,' Ben said. He sounded closed off to Ned, as if there were something in his mind that he didn't want to talk about.

'Why not?' Ned pressed, leaning back in his chair. 'Ain't no sense in your going around being a ranch hand, knocking around from ranch to ranch.'

'Ain't no sense you making plans about the future, either,' Ben said darkly.

'Why?' Ned asked in surprise. Ben had been the one trying to keep him positive all this time. 'This here's good grazing land. When Johnny gets back he'll buy cattle.'

'Johnny!' Ben snorted. 'What's he going to do? Chase out all the Indians by himself?'

Ned sat up straight again, puzzled by the tone of Ben's voice.

'You sore at me or something, Ben?' he asked.

'Why'd I be sore at you? I don't hardly know you.'

The words were as surprising as a slap to Ned. He found himself on his feet by the table, anger and hurt muddled together in his chest. Ben had gone out that morning quiet but cheerful, but it seemed like a storm had been building in him in the time he had been alone.

'Well, that ain't true!' Ned exclaimed. 'We worked lots of hours together on the range. Sometimes I got a feeling you don't want to know us. You don't want us to know you.'

'Well, it ain't that,' Ben said in a more deferential tone.

'Well, it's something,' Ned insisted, anger hardening his voice. 'Just cause I can't see with my eyes don't mean I can't see. Something's eating you, Ben. What is it? I'd like to know.'

The clatter of the wagon outside cut through the tension that hung in the air and someone stomped towards the door.

'It's me, Ned,' Uncle Charlie said brightly as he opened the door and cold air flooded in.

'Any news of Johnny?' Ned asked eagerly.

'Well, I guess I found out why the Indians took all our cattle,' Charlie said, coming into the room and putting a box down near the stove. He came back to hang up his coat and hat by the door. 'There's a lot of rumours at Fort Defiance. Government's going to move all the Indians to a reservation, far away. The Indians are mad about it too. They're preparing to make their own moves. Starting to raid stages and ranches and everything.'

'Did you hear any word from Johnny at Fort Defiance?' Ben asked as soon as Charlie was quiet.

There was an odd hitch in Uncle Charlie's breathing, and the soft noise of him fiddling with his coat where he had hung it on the door.

'Well, did you?' Ned urged him impatiently.

'Er-erm, yes,' he said awkwardly.

'A letter?'

'No, not a letter.'

'Well, what then?' Ned pressed him. He wished he'd gone with Charlie to Fort Defiance just so that he'd _know_ instead of being forced to ask.

'Well, I got to tell you this, Ned,' Charlie said quietly. 'We can't stay here waiting for him. I heard he was dead.'

'Dead?' The strength seemed to drain out of his legs and he sat without thinking about the movement. The chair was hard and still beneath him but he felt as if the ground were moving. 'He can't be, Uncle Charlie. He can't be dead.'

'He was shot down robbing a bank in New Mexico.'

The shock multiplied into a blank white haze. This made no sense. It made no sense at all.

'Johnny wasn't no robber,' he said fiercely. _Dead, robbing a bank…_ Johnny had always been wild but this – this couldn't be true. It couldn't.

'I knew it all the time, Ned, but I didn't want to tell you,' Charlie said, coming closer to him as if to comfort him – but he didn't reach out to touch him. 'Ever since he got out of the army he's been robbing and murdering.'

'Why didn't you never tell me before?' Ned asked, standing up, ready to run or – no. He didn't know what he needed to do. He hardly knew what he was thinking.

'Because I couldn't bring myself to it, Ned,' Charlie said with a great tiredness in his voice. 'I'm an old man, and you ain't got much future with me here, trying to scratch out a living.'

Ned felt as tired as Charlie sounded. He felt empty and bereft, as if he needed to turn somewhere for something to cling to but had no idea which way to turn. Each outward breath hollowed his abdomen as if he had been punched.

'You shouldn't have let me go on thinking like I did about Johnny, that he was coming back and we was going to be together again,' he said to Uncle Charlie. How could he believe what was around him any more? How could he believe anything?

'You're right,' Charlie said softly.

'I'm sorry for your hurt, Ned,' Ben said in his quiet, expressionless way.

Ned listened. Ben had walked over to the door and was putting on his coat. He was putting on his coat and preparing to leave. And suddenly Ned realised what it was that had been bothering Ben all this time, and why sometimes he had seemed as if there were another side to him hiding inside. Perhaps he really was blind, had been blind, all this time.

'You come here after Johnny, didn't you?' he asked tersely.

'I ain't going to lie to you,' Ben said. 'Yeah.'

'_Why?'_

'Don't matter now,' Ben said, as flat-voiced as ever.

Ned clenched his fists. He was unfolding pages about Johnny that he had never known existed and perhaps it would be better to stop there – but he had to know. Ben had become his friend. He had to know what Johnny had done to make a fellow like Ben want so badly to kill him.

'Matters to me,' he said.

'Why bring up something that ain't got nothing to do with you?' Ben said.

He was turning to the door again. He was going to walk out and never come back, and Ned's control snapped. He was tired of people trying to protect him like a child from the truth. He lurched at Ben and grabbed him by the arm.

'Does it seem like too much to tell me why you come to my house to kill my brother?' he grated.

Ben stayed calm. He began to turn away as if he thought Ned's hands would just slip from his arm.

'Let me go, Ned.'

Ned wrenched him back, shook him hard. 'You're gonna tell me before I do.'

He felt Ben's acquiescence before he spoke. The fight melted out of his muscles and out of the set of his arm under Ned's hands.

'All right,' Ben said slowly. 'I was with one of the companies of the Arizona Volunteers.'

'So was Johnny,' Ned nodded, loosening his hands slowly from Ben's sleeve. 'Lots of men from this part of Arizona and New Mexico.'

'Yeah,' Ben said. 'My company was wiped out in the battle at Tennessee Ridge, three weeks before the war ended. My brother was killed there, all on account of John Tallon.'

'That ain't true!' Ned said hotly. It _couldn't_ be true. Johnny had been given a medal, had shook Lincoln's hand. It couldn't be true…

Ben's voice was flat and prosaic. 'He was sent by Headquarters to tell Company B that we were about to be outflanked, to pull back or we'd be trapped. He never got there.'

'Maybe he was stopped by the Confederates,' Charlie said, moving close again.

'He give himself up,' Ben said. 'Only me and one other man got out alive, and he died in a couple of days.'

'It don't seem right,' Charlie protested. 'Johnny weren't no coward. You ought to know that about Johnny.'

'I never did know Johnny Tallon,' Ben said flatly. 'He was with Headquarters.'

'Then how could you know that he was the one?' Ned asked quickly.

'I was taken prisoner by the same greys that got Johnny. The captain of that rebel outfit said Johnny gave himself up.' Ben hesitated, his breath slow and stilted, and then said more softly, 'I'm sorry I had to tell you that, Ned.'

He was silent again, awkward. It felt as if there were too many people in the room, too many people in the world. Ned didn't know what to say. Every truth he had known about Johnny and about Ben seemed to have been knocked down, one by one. Reality was slipping through his fingers.

'Well, I'd better be going,' Ben said.

He moved through the door quickly as if he were afraid that Ned would grab at him again – but Ned didn't move. He didn't know what to do. He was empty and reeling from loss. Johnny would never be back. Ben was gone too. There was nothing he could do to bring either of them back.

He moved back to the table in a daze and sat on his chair. The belt was under his hands. He had one more hole to make for it to be finished. Mechanically he felt for the mallet and awl again. He pressed his two fingers onto the leather to measure the space, and positioned the awl, and beat out another hole. Then he swept his hands over the length, feeling for roughness or mistakes. There were none.

He rolled the belt up like a snail shell and held it in his two hands. He wouldn't have to make a second belt for Ben now.

'Uncle Charlie?' he said quietly.

'What is it, Ned?' Charlie asked in that soft voice that people reserved for sickness or death.

He held the belt up. 'Give this to Ben, would you? Johnny don't need it now. I'd like Ben to have it.'

'You're sure, Ned?' Charlie asked him.

He nodded. 'Yeah, I'm sure. Ben never meant us no harm. He only wanted to get even for the bad that Johnny did.'

'Well, all right,' Charlie said, taking the coiled leather from him. 'I'm sure he'll appreciate that.'

'You'd better go on out,' Ned said. 'It won't take him long to saddle up.'

He sat and waited for Uncle Charlie to go out through the door. He could hear the small noises from outside as Ben dealt with the horse. He had no stomach for going out and taking leave of him himself.

He ran his hands over the table, gathering up the leather scraps and tools and putting them back in the box. Mechanically he stood and carried the box to his bed and slid it underneath. He put his hand to the chair by the stove and made to sit in it, and almost sat on Uncle Charlie's box of provisions from Fort Defiance. He passed his hands over the anonymous packets but he didn't move the box out of the chair. Instead he went to the back door of the house and opened it, and stepped down onto the dirt. He could hear Charlie and Ben talking out front, but he couldn't catch the words. He stood and waited, listening as the sound of hooves began to wind up the hill.

He walked in the opposite direction, towards the corral where the horses stood. He didn't have the heart to go riding but he went into the corral instead and stood there by the rough fence. One of the horses ambled over to him and nuzzled its nose against his side and he touched his hand to the coat, recognising the feel of Doggone's thick, slick pelt. The horse whickered and curved its neck against his head. The cold pressed through his shirt at his back and the wind teased at his hair but his front was warm against the horse's side.

There was an aching in his chest and he didn't know what to do with it except for crying, but he held his lips tight and didn't cry. Johnny was with his ma and pa now, and whatever wrongs he had done Ned didn't have to face him with the knowledge of what he had become. He wouldn't have to talk to him knowing that he had killed and stole and caused the deaths of all those men by running scared into the hands of the greys. Johnny was his big brother. He didn't want to think of him like that. He didn't want to see him small and tarnished.

'You're a good old horse,' he murmured, combing his fingers through Doggone's mane and scratching the hide underneath. There were no cattle and Ben was gone and Johnny had dropped out of life, but the horses were here at least, and Uncle Charlie was probably inside starting to cook up something for dinner. The ground was hard under his feet and the smell of dust was in the air and the noise of the wind buffeted from the high cliffs hereabout. The future felt like an open sea and he didn't know where he was going to turn, but there were some certainties left to him.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

It was time to pack up and move out. There was nothing more to be done. There was no more hanging on and waiting for Johnny and hoping for a better future. All of the soft stuff was bundled up and waiting to go into the wagon, wrapped around delicate and fragile things like the clock and the old Bible and the little china trinkets that had belonged to Ned's ma. The beds and the table and chairs would stay. The stove would have to stay. Maybe Charlie could come back for some of the big things once they knew where they would be settled, but it didn't seem likely to Ned. All he knew was taken apart and folded up and lying in strange places about the floor and he sat in the chair by the stove, waiting while Charlie cleared a path for him to walk through.

He had been born in this house. He knew what it looked like, knew the views of the cliffs and hills around and the sights of desert willows clustered along dry creek bottoms. He knew what it felt and smelt like too, knew the feel of each stone in the wall at hand-height about the house and the places where the wood of the fences was smooth and where it was rough. He knew how to walk from the house to the outhouse without being a step wrong and just where the corral gate was by the way the dirt was worn to a little dip in front of it. He knew that if he wasn't blind they would not be leaving, and Charlie would not feel bound to take care of him.

'There you go, Ned,' Charlie said, lifting something with a grunt of effort. 'I got things out of your way. You can help carry things out now. There's a box of pots just by your bed. You manage that?'

Ned nodded and stood, feeling out for the box and hefting it in his arms.

'Where're we going, Uncle Charlie?' he asked as he made for the door.

'Fort Defiance. And then – I don't know yet,' Charlie said honestly, following behind with his own load. 'Wagon's just there,' he said as Ned stepped out of the door. 'About four paces in front of you.'

Ned reached the wagon and rested his load on the side while he passed a hand over the floor of the wagon box. He slipped the box down and turned, listening as Charlie put his own load down.

'What are we going to do, Uncle Charlie?' he asked, leaning against the wood and folding his arms.

'I don't know,' Charlie said again. 'But we can't stay here. We ain't got nothing to farm with and we're too far from town if anything – well – '

'Yeah,' Ned said, knowing what Charlie meant. If anything happened to Charlie, Ned would be alone out here, and he couldn't manage alone.

'We'll go to Fort Defiance first, and we'll move on until we can find something to do,' Charlie said. 'Someone will want a ranch hand somewhere.'

'Will someone want me?' Ned asked realistically.

Charlie cleared his throat. Then he said, 'Well, I ain't going nowhere that won't take you, Ned.'

Ned smiled and nodded, and went inside silently to find more boxes to carry. He felt more burdensome than he had in a long time, especially after that light, fun time when Ben was here. Wherever he was, following on behind Uncle Charlie, holding on to his coat arm, men would look at them and shake their heads and move them on. No one wanted a handicapped man on their payroll. Ned wanted to stay at the ranch, but that wasn't possible – and he didn't know where in the world would take them, one man old and one blind. The future filled him with a cold fear.

They carried on packing, carrying out bundles and slotting them into spaces in the wagon. Then they laid the emptied straw ticks and the quilts and blankets over the top, carefully protecting the possessions beneath.

'Forgot this one box, Ned,' Charlie said, hurrying out of the house with a clanking load in his arms.

Ned walked back to the open doorway and stood there, listening. Empty, the house sounded different. When he walked inside his footsteps echoed on the floor. Outside he heard Charlie hitching up the horses. He went back into the fresh air. There was nothing to hang on to inside any more.

'Want me to tie Doggone and Red to the back?' he asked from the doorway.

'Already done, Ned,' Charlie said from between the horses as he finished hitching them up. 'And your saddle's lashed on the back. Why don't you get up front and we'll haul out?'

Ned pressed his hand hard onto the stone of the wall for one last time. This house had been a friend to him. Then he let go and walked over to the wagon and clambered up onto the seat as Charlie flung one last thing on top of the load piled up back. He put his hand on the load and felt a saddle blanket under his fingers. Wherever they went, he sure hoped he got the chance to go out riding sometimes. It was one of the few times when he felt truly free.

He caught the sound of hooves echoing somewhere up the hill and his head jerked up.

'Someone's coming.'

Charlie was silent as the pounding of the horse grew louder, and then he said in wonderment, 'Why, it's Ben! Ben Shelby!'

Ned sat up a little straighter on the wagon seat. _Ben?_ He had thought he would never see Ben again. It couldn't be he'd forgotten something – Charlie would have found it when they were packing up their things.

The horse cantered right down to the wagon and pulled up alongside and Ben's voice rang out. Until then Ned had not quite believed it.

'Where're you heading for?'

'Fort Defiance,' Charlie said with a tone of finality. 'No sense in hanging around here any more.'

'You looking for a partner?'

'In what?' Charlie asked suspiciously.

'Ranching,' Ben said brightly. 'You got a lot of good grazing land, corral, and some equipment. I got myself a bill of sale for two hundred and fifty head of cattle I bought me.'

Ned moved across the wagon seat as if moving closer would make the conversation more real. All his life was bundled up in the wagon behind him. He couldn't believe that they were going to stay put after all.

'You ain't just funning with me, are you, Ben?' Charlie asked, still suspicious.

'No, sir,' Ben said firmly. He sounded light and easy, as if he were smiling through the words.

'What about your wife?'

'I sent her a letter asking her to catch the next stage. She should be here soon.'

The joy burst out in Ned's heart and he whooped out loud. No man would bring his wife all that way on a stagecoach if he didn't mean to stay.

'Well, I still don't see any sense in bringing cattle in here for the Indians to come around and pick them up,' Charlie said doubtfully.

'Well, we got word from the Fort the army's going to take care of all this Indian trouble.'

'That's right,' Ned said. He wouldn't let anything dampen the joy that he felt.

'Come on, Ned,' Ben said buoyantly. 'Let's go get a tree for Jane.'

Ned clambered back down to the ground, wondering what Ben's wife wanted with a tree. The dirt had never felt so solid and so good beneath his feet as it did now he knew he was staying here. He'd get a whole forest for Jane if it meant he could stay here.

'A tree?' Charlie asked, voicing Ned's puzzlement.

'Yeah. Christmas tree,' Ben said, moving to untie Doggone from the wagon.

Ned came round behind the wagon and felt for the horse's back. He thought he'd heard the soft flap of Ben laying the saddle blanket down and he felt it under his hand, smoothed out over Doggone's pelt and ready for the saddle.

'Huh?' Ned asked as he grabbed the saddle from the back of the wagon. 'What's that?'

'Well, it's a pine you dress up real pretty like,' Ben said, helping Ned strap the saddle into place. 'A fellow from Europe from my outfit told me about it. Something they do in the old country. He fixed us one last year for Christmas. Jane'd sure like it.'

'You really staying, Ben?' Ned asked, a moment of uncertainty overtaking him as he tightened the girth about the horse's body.

'Sure I'm staying,' Ben said firmly. 'I ain't going to go chop down no tree to take on the trail.'

'Maybe it's the Lord's way of giving each of you both back your brother,' Charlie said in a softer voice.

Ned thought on that. Johnny had been everything to him – but it didn't seem the Johnny he was thinking of had ever been a real person. A little steel of betrayal and resentment rose in the centre of his body when he thought of Johnny now. He remembered Johnny's roughness and his quick mouth and his way of making near everyone mad at him with his flippancy and disrespect. Ben wasn't like that. Ben would be a good brother to have.

'Maybe,' Ben said simply, but he sounded glad with that one word. 'Come on, Ned. Mount up.'

'Now, hurry back, now!' Charlie called as Ned swung himself up onto the horse. Ben was already riding away and he urged Doggone to a trot to catch up.

'You seen any pine trees about?' Ned called as he reached the sound of Ben's horse. 'There used to some up above Elbow Creek.'

'Well, I guess that's where we'll look first,' Ben said, turning his horse towards the west.

'Got your hatchet?'

Ben laughed. 'I ain't going to chop it down with my hands. You can hold it steady while I cut it.'

'What do you dress it up with, Ben?' Ned asked, spurring his horse on to come level with the other. The hoof-falls echoed out into the hills as they made their way across the land towards the creek.

'Well, Georg said stars and little ornaments and candles,' Ben said. 'But I guess we'll have to make do. We used popcorn strings and ribbons and apples that time. You got any popcorn?'

'I don't reckon so,' Ned smiled. 'Maybe there'll be some pinecones about. They'd look nice, wouldn't they?'

'I'll keep a lookout,' Ben promised. 'And maybe if we take our time your Uncle Charlie'll have everything back in the house by the time we get there.'

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The tree was a little shorter than Ned's height. It was wide and the bristles were soft and sharp when he brushed his hands over it, and it gave the house a fresh, green scent that covered over the stale smells of tobacco and wood smoke. Ben set it up near the table, out of Ned's way but where he could smell it as he sat to eat or work. Ben had already cut a star from a piece of board and covered it with foil tobacco paper so that it would shine and glisten on the top of the tree

The table was covered scraps of tobacco paper, and with pine cones. Some of the cones Ben had rolled in mud and set to dry so that they were white and dusted as if by snow. Some of them were left natural, and Ned visualised them brown and green amongst the white ones. It would look real pretty, he was sure, when they were all hung up, and he was glad of the joy it would bring to Jane even if he couldn't see it. Just the fresh smell inside the house was novelty enough.

He kept on cutting out shapes from the tobacco papers, cutting slowly and carefully with a sharp knife the shapes of stars and hearts and circles and then threading string through holes pierced in the tops so that Ben could hang them on the boughs. The pine cones were easy to put loops on just by tying some cotton about them, but getting the thread through the holes in the foil paper was a whole new level of skill. He put the string aside for a moment and tried at cutting out an angel instead, with sweeping wings and a long gown.

'Does this look like an angel, Ben?' he asked finally, holding up the newly cut shape on its thread.

Ben took it, and laughed. 'Sure it does. I mean, it ain't quite like any angel I imagined in heaven, but it's good enough for our tree.'

Ned laughed at that, pressing his fingers lightly over the other cut papers and wondering if they were enough like stars and circles and hearts.

'Ah, they're fine, Ned,' Ben said, clapping him on the shoulder. He moved around the tree, brushing the branches and making them whisper softly and release a whole new burst of scent into the air. 'Give me some pine cones, would you?'

Ned picked up a couple and held them out and Ben took them to hang on the tree.

'Well, I don't know,' Ben murmured. 'I ain't never decorated one of these by myself before and I can't ask you how it looks.'

Ned laughed again. He was so light with joy that he didn't care about not being able to see the tree.

'Hand me one of them silver tobacco papers you've been cutting on,' Ben said, and Ned felt for one that he had already threaded and handed it over. 'This is sure a lot of bother, but it'll be a big surprise for Jane.'

'She ain't never seen a Christmas tree neither, huh?' Ned asked, breaking off more thread from the reel with a sharp snap.

'Nope.'

'Think your wife's going to like it here?' Ned asked. These dry and empty canyons weren't the kind of place everyone took to.

'I think so,' Ben said, reaching in front of him and picking up another foil shape.

'Is your wife pretty, Ben?'

Ben laughed. 'What do you expect a man to say about his own wife?'

'Ah, some day I'm going to find me a gal,' Ned said, leaning on his elbows on the table and thinking about how that might be. 'I can do my share running a ranch.'

'Sure, else why'd I be setting up for us to be partners?' Ben said firmly. 'Jane's bringing the money we saved from selling the place. We're going to buy us some extra stock.'

'Ah, it's going to be the best darn ranch around here,' Ned grinned, thinking of those milling cattle and the money they'd bring in and how nice it would be to stop scraping together the last few pennies every time they went into town to buy provisions.

'Yeah, and the biggest,' Ben said. 'We're gonna spread out. You know, all through the fighting I kept dreaming how some day it would end and we could start ranching again, me and Jane, and how we could be together with my brother.'

That struck a chord in Ned, thinking of Ben's lost brother and of Johnny and all the promises that had fallen apart and disappeared as if they had never been. Ben had hated Johnny even if he had never met him, and with good reason too. A needle of uncertainty made itself felt in Ned's mind every time he thought of his own brother and what had happened to Ben's because of him. Ben would be justified in hating Ned too, in hating his whole family…

'Ben?' Ned asked.

'Yeah?'

'You sure you maybe won't change your mind?'

The thought of the answer terrified him momentarily, but he had to know. He had to know that Ben would not disappear again and leave him without help and without a future.

'I can't,' Ben said, and the lightness of his voice blew away Ned's concerns. 'Already got it set in my mind how we're going to build them ranch houses. One for me and Jane, and one for Uncle Charlie and you – and a real pretty wife.'

Ned laughed at that thought. Ben was maybe the most optimistic person he knew, despite all the troubles and the buried anger somewhere inside him.

'How am I sure she's gonna be pretty?' he asked.

'Well, you'll have to take my word for it.'

Ned sighed at the thought of that woman. No matter what she looked like, the thought of having someone to hold close in the night and to share warmth with was a dream he had close on given up achieving.

'How about me going into Fort Defiance with you tomorrow?' he asked. He couldn't find himself a wife if he never left the ranch.

Ben moved away from the Christmas tree with slow steps, as if something were revolving in his mind.

'Well, I kinda figured maybe Jane and I'd stay in town for a couple of days,' he said slowly.

'Hmm?' Ned asked, wondering why on earth Ben should want to stay in that place when he was sure of a good bed and good food here. And then the realisation dawned and a flush of awkwardness came over him. 'Oh!' he said, trying not to laugh like a schoolboy at the thought of what Ben would be doing. 'Oh, sure, yeah…'

He trailed off, with no idea what to say next. Ben was buckling on his gun belt by the door, preparing to go outside, and Ned thought perhaps he'd last until he went through the door before he let the laughter loose.

'I reckon we won't be getting no more pine cones today,' Ben said with a great degree of self-consciousness in his voice. He knew what Ned was thinking about. 'I'll unsaddle the horses.'

A noise outside cut into Ned's attention and the laughter dissolved away. He could hear horses' hooves – lots of them.

'Ben,' he said. 'Riders…'

The door opened and Ned asked quickly, 'Uncle Charlie, who's coming?'

'I don't know, er…' Charlie said awkwardly, and Ned sat straighter, aware that his uncle was hiding something. He was signing something to Ben, he was sure. He could hear the awkward movements of his body and the little metallic noises as he picked up his rifle. There was a thick, unusual silence and then Ben followed Charlie outside almost at a run, closing the door sharply behind him.

Ned stood slowly, listening hard. The horses' hooves came to a stop near the house and he heard voices, at first quiet, and then Charlie's raised in challenge. Ned moved over to the door and found his coat and hat and slipped them on, but he didn't open the door. Instead he stood with his ear against the crack where it met the frame, listening. He still couldn't make out any words, but he could hear the sharp, brittle tones of anger in what was being said. There were only two strangers talking, but there had been more horses than that – maybe six, maybe ten. He couldn't tell, but he knew there had been enough that Ben and Uncle Charlie would stand little chance if a fight broke out.

The voices carried on, never raised to a shout but full of menace all the same. He wanted to open the door and stand with Ben and Uncle Charlie but he knew that would be a fool thing to do. He could only get in the way. So he stood silently, and listened.

When the first shout came it was Uncle Charlie. Ned started back instinctively, and it was just in time because the door slammed open without warning. The shooting started almost simultaneously.

'Ben?' he asked quickly. 'Uncle Charlie?'

'It's me,' Ben said shortly, grabbing at Ned's arm none too gently. 'Come on, Ned.'

'Come on?' Ned echoed.

He had the sense not to resist as Ben tugged him across the room, but he was torn with the need to get Uncle Charlie. The shots were ringing out in all directions. He could hear bullets thudding into the stone walls of the house. Uncle Charlie would have nothing but the well to hide behind.

'What is it, Ben?' he asked. 'Who is it?'

'Save it, Ned,' Ben snapped. 'We need to get to the horses. Good thing we left them saddles on.'

Ned stumbled and almost fell as the floor dropped away and he tripped down the back steps out of the house.

'Come on,' Ben urged him.

Ned ran, clinging to Ben's arm, saving questions for later. Shots were still snapping through the air on the other side of the house and they pounded across the ground to the corral.

'Mount up,' Ben said, thrusting him at his horse, and Ned swung himself up onto Doggone faster than he ever had in his life. He kicked Doggone into action and then Ben came alongside on his own horse and hit at his arm with a hand to urge him forward. Ned leant forward over the saddle and drove Doggone on with all his might.

'We ought to help Uncle Charlie,' Ned shouted over the thudding noise of the horses as they galloped up the rough slopes away from the house.

'They want to string you up, Ned,' Ben yelled back, his voice lurching with the movement of the horse. 'What you gonna do? As soon as you rode in there they'd rope you up and drag you all the way to the lynching tree.'

A white silence had expanded in Ned's mind, making the pounding and panting of the horses fade away into muffled nothings. A moment ago he had been sitting in the house with the stove burning and the smell of that pine tree and a Christmas feeling growing all around. Why would anyone want to string him up?

'What happened, Ben?' he asked in bewilderment. 'What is it?'

Ben urged his horse on further. 'I can't talk riding like this,' he called out. His horse was creeping ahead and Ned kicked Doggone hard in the sides to make him go faster. 'It's Dave Parker's lot. Half dozen at least. I'll explain later. They're giving chase.'

Ned turned his head back, listening hard. The shooting had stopped and there was the sound of a bunch of horses somewhere behind them. He could think of only one reason why Charlie would stop shooting. He leaned back over the horse's neck, urging him faster. He had never felt so exposed. All he could do was trust Ben and ride.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Doggone wasn't as fast as Ben's horse. He kept falling behind and Ned kept urging him on, hearing the thundering of Ben's horse in front of him and the hooves of the men behind, chasing, made faint by distance. The dust rose up until it was thick in his lungs and the air was cold against his face and hands and pressed through his coat until he was chilled deep down inside. They were galloping over a wide flatness, somewhere along the bottom of a valley. The hooves clattered on hard packed ground and the dust kept whipping up. Ned had no idea in which direction they were going and there was no chance to ask.

The ground began to creep upwards and then Doggone slowed in response to Ben's horse slowing. Ned heard Ben dismount and Doggone flinched as Ben grabbed at his bridle.

'You all right, Ned?' Ben asked briefly.

He nodded, 'Uhuh.'

He was out of breath just from the effort of keeping Doggone going, his heart thudding hard under his ribs.

'It'll be easier on the horses if we lead 'em over this hill,' Ben said breathlessly, and Ned slipped from his mount, feeling his way down Doggone's panting sides until he found his tail and grabbed it with both hands.

'Go ahead,' he said. Doggone would guide him up the hill.

The horse lurched forwards and he followed the tug of the tail, stumbling over small, scrubby plants and loose earth that crumbled under his feet and made him slip. His legs were shaking from the riding and Doggone was high above him, always pulling, kicking up dust in Ned's face. It would have half killed the horse to be ridden up a hill this steep after the run he had just had.

'What is it, Ben?' he called ahead, now that it was quiet enough for talking. 'What did Dave Parker want with me?'

Ben was silent,and Ned wondered if he hadn't heard. But then Ben called down in a voice that was slow and laden with guilt, 'It's my fault, Ned. I wrote a letter to Jane, but I never sent it. Told her what your brother Johnny did at Tennessee Ridge. That was when I meant to go home. But I changed my mind. Couldn't leave you and your Uncle Charlie like that after everything. I wanted us to be partners, Ned.'

'Uhuh,' Ned said breathlessly. The effort of following Doggone's twisting path up the hill didn't leave a lot of room for speech. The air was cold and dust-filled in his lungs and every breath was a pant.

'I screwed that letter up and threw it on the table in the saloon,' Ben said. 'One of Dave Parker's men must've picked it up. Dave Parker came down to the ranch with that letter in his hand saying he wanted there to be no Tallon brothers alive on account of his own brothers being killed at Tennessee Ridge.'

'Dave Parker had reason enough to hate Johnny before that,' Ned called up from behind the horse. The thought of Parker saying that in his hard, dry voice with the intent to string Ned up sent chills through him. His neck felt bare and vulnerable against that thought. 'I guess that letter gave him even more.'

'Yeah,' Ben said succinctly. 'I'm sorry, Ned.'

'It ain't your fault, Ben,' Ned said. 'God damn it!' he cursed as the ground disappeared beneath him and he almost fell.

'You all right?' Ben called back.

'Yeah,' Ned said tersely, pulling himself up again by the horse's tail. Doggone was winding sideways along the hill and the ground kept dropping away and bumping up again beneath Ned's feet. He could hear the pounding of the horses following them, coming closer fast. 'We almost at the top?'

'Yeah. And they're at the bottom,' Ben said grimly. 'Get up on that horse. We'll maybe get away from them on the other side.'

Ned nodded swiftly, finding his way back to the horse's side and pulling himself up onto his back. Doggone followed Ben's horse again in a stomach-lurching plunge down the slope on the other side. Ned hadn't heard the men chasing them dismount. They'd be slower up the hill than he and Ben had been because the horses would have to pick an easier path. This was their chance to get away.

The ground levelled out again and they pressed their horses on to a gallop. Ned leaned forward, the wind whipping at his face, letting the thoughts of what had happened crystallise in his mind. Ben was risking everything for him – every beat of his heart and every drop of blood in his veins. He could have stood with Dave Parker after what Johnny had done, but he hadn't. He knew then that Ben wouldn't leave him. He had fought against the Parker gang for him. He had risked his life shooting at them to keep them from Ned. And Uncle Charlie… Uncle Charlie had stayed to hold them off, him alone against a gang of men. Uncle Charlie would not be there when they got back, and now Ben was the only help he had in the world, with no ties but friendship to keep him there.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Eventually they slowed and stopped again. Even while they were still Ned seemed to feeling the swaying of the horse and hear the ringing of hoof-falls in his ears. He was tired out with riding but there was still panic at his back, urging him to carry on for as long as he could. He trusted to Ben's sense though, steadying Doggone and holding his breath to listen.

There was wind blowing against close canyon walls and the calling of birds and the soft sound of dirt blowing about stalks and leaves, but he couldn't hear horses anywhere.

'I don't hear nothing, Ben,' he said.

'I reckon Parker won't follow us in here,' Ben said decisively.

'In where?' Ned asked with a sense of apprehension. There didn't seem to be many places that Parker wouldn't go to exact revenge.

'Navajo Canyons.'

Ned raised his eyebrows, blowing air out through his lips. 'I reckon not.'

Riding into Navajo Canyons with the Indians riled up as they were was a kind of calculated suicide.

'Let's get off and rest a while,' Ben said.

Ned nodded, slipping from the horse and finding that his legs were almost too stiff and too cold to stand on. He moved round to Doggone's head and crouched down, holding the reins and trying to catch his breath until his chest was heaving more slowly.

'We've got to find a spot to take cover and get some rest for the horses,' Ben said, crouching down beside him. 'We've got a couple of hours of daylight left. Better to travel these parts at night.'

'Where we travelling to?' Ned asked.

'The west end of the canyon. That'll take us a good distance away from Fort Defiance. But if we go back the same way we come in Parker's liable to be waiting.'

'He'll be waiting at Fort Defiance too,' Ned said with a dry laugh. Fort Defiance practically smelt of Dave Parker. He had his hand controlling everything.

'Yeah, I know, but we'll have the protection of the law there,' Ben told him. 'Besides, you ain't done nothing, Ned.'

Ned smiled. He knew he'd never done nothing, but that had never stopped the Parker gang before. If they thought they had a reason, they carried through on their intent. While Dave Parker was alive he would not feel safe, law or no law.

'You got your own makings?'

Ned brushed his hand over his pocket. 'Yeah,' he said, taking out his pouch.

'Maybe Uncle Charlie'll join us soon,' Ben said, taking out his own pouch and pulling out a rustling paper.

'He ain't going to join us,' Ned said flatly.

He knew, somehow, that Charlie was dead. Charlie wouldn't have let that gang get away from the house except by giving up his life.

He spread out a tobacco paper in his hand and held it curved while he poured a fine line of leaf along it, touching it softly with a finger to judge the amount.

'It ain't right for you to have the bother of me, Ben,' he said quietly.

'T'ain't no bother. We're partners, ain't we?' Ben said in a cheering voice. 'Besides, I'm sure the Lord's looking out for you, Ned.'

'Might be,' Ned laughed, 'but supposing he ain't looking out for you?'

He pulled the drawstring on his pouch with his teeth, holding the paper with the loose tobacco carefully cupped in his hand so the leaves wouldn't blow away on the wind.

'I still got my rifle,' Ben said. 'Ain't nothing gonna happen to me before I see Jane.'

Ned laughed again as he rolled the cigarette. A wife seemed to be a good thing to have if it made a man so blamed determined to stay alive.

'I ain't scared with a partner like you, Ben,' he said. He lifted the tobacco paper to his mouth and licked it to seal it, then held it between his lips.

'I guess it's up to me to say I ain't scared either. So I'm saying it.' Ben paused, and then he reached out and put a hand on Ned's shoulder, touching him with firm warmth. 'You and me both know we're lying, don't we, Ned?'

Ned smiled with his cigarette clamped between his lips. He was scared to the very depths of his being, crouching out here between the walls of Navajo Canyon with a posse of men out to find him and put a rope around his neck or to shoot him before he could run any further. The fear felt like another skin around him, like the blood in his veins and the beating of his heart. Ben was the only thing between him and death, and thank the Lord he knew he could trust him.

'Well. Let's get going,' Ben said.

Ned stood up by the horse. He heard Ben strike a match on his horse's tack and he reached up to cup Ben's hands as he lit his cigarette for him. He breathed in deep and let the hot, fresh smoke billow into his lungs and instantly a little of the tightness of fear was softened.

He mounted Doggone and the horse stirred restlessly. He was tired of being forced to gallop across this hard land.

'It's all right,' Ned murmured, patting the horse's neck. 'You can walk for a while. We all of us are dog tired.'

The warmth from the smoke in his lungs was about the only warmth there was as they rode. The horses kept on at a slow walk, tired out from galloping so long and so hard. Ned was tired out too. He rode with his eyes closed and his hands loose on the reins, his hat pressed down as far as possible to keep the cold out. He smoked, and spoke little, and Ben spoke even less. They reached a wet place where a small spring trickled out from the rocks and after the horses had their turn Ned knelt by the water and cupped it in his hands, drinking his fill.

'All right,' Ben said as Ned sat back on his haunches. 'We'll settle here til it gets dark. The trees make good cover.'

'You seen any sight of Indians?' Ned asked, wiping his hands dry on his coat.

'Not a thing – but Indians are mighty good at not being seen. You heard anything?'

Ned shook his head. He hadn't heard anything since they entered the canyons but the calls of wild animals and birds.

'You'd better settle down, then,' Ben said. 'Gonna to be hard going through the night.'

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Somehow Ned slept, bedded down in the soft, dusty earth with his coat tightly buttoned around him. The sunlight didn't bother him, at least. That was a small mercy.

When he woke he lay for a while, disoriented, trying to judge by the temperature and the birdsong if it were dark. It felt like night, but his time sense was muddled by sleeping at such an odd time. He opened his eyes wide and stared at the sky, but he could not tell if the soft, fluctuating moments of light were sunlight or moon.

He lay back and put his arms behind his head. Ben was beside him, asleep still, the only warm thing within reach. His breathing was slow and soft. Not far away the horses stood patient and quiet, their reins looped about the branch of a tree. Ned wished he could eat the grass and leaves as they did. His stomach was clenching on emptiness.

An owl called and that settled the question of the darkness. It must be at least getting in to night. Sleepiness was still resting in his eyes and making his body heavy. If it were warmer he would have been able to settle back onto the dirt and sleep for hours more. The tiredness was stiff and aching in his bones. But it was hard to sleep in the face of cold.

He lay still, thinking of the house and of Uncle Charlie. Maybe Uncle Charlie was sitting at home with the lamp lit and the stove fired up, but he didn't think that could be true. There was an image in his head of Uncle Charlie lying sprawled on the ground behind the well, the dust clotted and dark with his blood, his body stiff with death rather than cold. In his mind the house door stood open, the feeble wind moving in through one door and out through the other, rustling that Christmas tree with a sound of pine needles and foil paper. In his mind the house was a more lonely place than this hollow under the trees where he lay with the warm, steady presence of Ben beside him and the horses softly moving their feet and snorting air through their nostrils. There was life here, and hope, instead of a wall peppered with bullet marks and the body of Uncle Charlie and that Christmas tree whispering to itself in the dark.

He turned over, reaching out to Ben, and touched the thick wool weave of his coat. He shook him lightly, saying, 'Ben? Ben, I think it's dark.'

Ben started up as though he'd been bitten and Ned heard the metallic sound of him drawing his gun.

'God damn it, Ned, what did you – ' he began – and then he settled back again and Ned heard him holster his gun. 'Sorry, Ned,' he said. 'Guess I'm a mite jumpy.'

He was silent for a moment, then he said, 'Darn it, why didn't you wake me before? The moon's halfway across the sky!'

'I ain't been awake long myself,' Ned said, taking Ben's peevishness as the natural result of fear and tiredness. 'Besides, I weren't even sure it were dark until I heard an owl call.'

'Yeah, sorry, Ned,' Ben said again. 'Well, we needed it and the horses needed it. We'd better push on. We got a long way to travel before daybreak.'

'Ben, you ain't got no food with you?' Ned asked hopefully as his stomach cramped and grumbled again.

'Why, sure, I'll just go out back to the pantry,' Ben said with a laugh. But then he sat up straight with an intake of breath, and then stood and went to the horses. Ned heard rustling and then Ben returned and thrust a paper-wrapped packet into his hand.

'I forgot what I had in my saddlebag,' he said. 'Packed it for the trip back to Jane.'

'What is it?' Ned asked, unwrapping the paper carefully and bringing the food to his nose.

'Hoecakes,' Ben said, and then added with half a laugh in his voice, 'Johnnycakes, my grandma used to call 'em – but she were from Massachussets.'

Ned smiled darkly at that as he peeled one of the thin, flat cakes from the stack in the paper. Johnny, Charlie, both gone, and nothing left but Ben and his aptly named cornbread.

'That's half of what I got, we're eating,' Ben warned him. 'I got another two packets and a little jerky for chewing. No more.'

'Best meal I've ever tasted,' Ned said with a grin. After a little food and a little sleep the prospect of riding through the night was not so daunting. 'You got a canteen too?'

'Yeah,' Ben said. 'Here. Drink up. I'll fill it before we go.'

Ned took the canteen and drank cold, clean water, then gave it back to Ben. He ate the last of the hoecake and tossed the paper into the wind. He could hear Ben at the spring, pressing the canteen under the water so that air bubbled out of it.

'Do you really believe we're going to make it out of here, Ben?' he asked as he got to his feet. The horses moved nervously, sensing that their rest was about to end.

'With you as a partner?' Ben asked. 'Sure I do. Come on. Let's move out. See how far we can get before dawn.'


	9. Chapter 9

9.

The air was thin and cold. Ned could taste the light touch of dew in each breath and feel it settling on his hands and face. He was tireder than he'd ever been, but the horses kept on walking and Ben kept on picking out a path through the canyons, mile after mile. He had felt the night grow and wane around him and now his eyes were hot and his throat was dry and the need to sleep hung through every part of his body. Once he found himself slipping unawares into a soft, warm place with enticing thoughts and drifting softness – and then he jerked upright, shock rippling through him as he realised he'd fell asleep and almost fell right off the back of the horse.

'It dawn yet, Ben?' he asked, trying to keep the need to yawn from his voice. His hands were stiff on the reins and he flexed his fingers. They didn't feel too different to the senseless leather they were holding.

'Plumb on,' Ben said, reining his horse in to a slower pace. 'You tired, Ned?'

'Yeah,' he said honestly. 'Too tired to sleep maybe, but I'm tired enough to drop.'

'Can you feel that sun behind us?'

Ned shook his head. He couldn't feel anything but damp and cold and exhaustion.

'Well, it's coming up dead behind us at the east end of the canyon. Might start to warm up our backs a little.'

'Yeah, maybe,' Ned smiled. It seemed like wishful thinking that it would get warmer, but the thought of the sun there, molten and awake on the horizon, was a warming thought.

'It's gonna get real bright soon,' Ben said. 'There's a good spot for us to bed down during the day. We'll start again as soon as it gets dark.'

The horses wound their way down a small slope, hooves slipping in the loose dirt. Ned could hear trees rustling softly in the light wind.

'We'll hitch the horses here,' Ben said, getting down from his horse with a light thud.

Ned slipped onto the ground and stood holding on to Doggone's reins, his legs straight and stiff under him. Leaves were moving overhead, and he could feel the sun now in a patch on the side of his face when there was a lull in the breeze. Ben took the reins from him and secured the horse with his own, and then took hold of Ned's arm.

'Come on. Let's get us some rest.'

Ned looped his arm through Ben's, too tired to do more than stumble behind him as Ben led him to the spot he had chosen. He slipped down a little dip in the ground and Ben said, 'There y'are, Ned. Settle down.'

It was a narrow space like a dried up gully. The wind cut overhead but didn't reach down into the sheltered space. Ned sat with a rock at his back and his legs stretched out over the soft dirt, and waited for sleep to overcome him like it had on Doggone's back.

He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the rock, but his mind wouldn't stop working. He saw Johnny standing there, cutting a swell, dressed for impressing the girls and showing the men that he was the best in town. He saw him with his gun belt buckled around his lean middle, a revolver snug in each holster, and his hat pushed back on his head. He had always felt safe when Johnny was around.

He remembered sitting at a table in Dave Parker's saloon, drinking whiskey that Johnny had bought, drinking it down and drinking more down, getting drunker than Johnny was. Johnny could drink all night and hardly show any difference for it, but Ned got silly and laughed and lay back in his chair and wanted to welcome the whole world into his arms.

He could barely remember what it was Johnny had said any more – something about the Parkers, about Billy or John, in a too-loud voice – and Ned had laughed, and then suddenly everything had changed. There was a smash as Billy Parker struck a bottle into the hard edge of the bar and then he was coming at him, fast and ugly, the bottle held out before him like a knife – and then Johnny's hand cutting across in front of him, taking the impact of that bottle before it hit Ned, and the blood suddenly welling and dripping down onto the table in big, spreading drops like an unexpected rain. Even through that pain and that welling of blood Johnny had drawn his guns, steady as ever, and everything had gone quiet. No one wanted to set Johnny off when he had his guns in his hands, least of all the Parker boys.

Ned frowned, trying to picture what had happened next. Johnny sitting at the table with his hand dripping blood and someone – Ned couldn't remember who – tying a cloth around the wound while Johnny kept his guns steadily on the Parkers and ready to turn on anyone else who tried anything.

'You don't set on my brother,' he had said, as steady as if he had been drinking nothing but water. 'No one sets on my brother.'

Dave Parker's mouth had been closed in a tight line. He had stayed behind the bar while his brothers had come at Ned and Johnny, and he was still there, polishing the fingermarks off a glass and watching Johnny like a snake. Sobriety had come over Ned like a cold drench and he remembered saying to Johnny, 'Let's go home. No sense in hanging around here.' But Johnny had shook his head and said, 'I paid for these drinks. We're going to sit here and drink them, Ned.' When Ned had shook his head and made as if to get up Johnny's voice changed and he said, 'Sit down, Ned,' as if he were ordering a dog to stay. That had been a long, long night…

'We gotta get some rest, Ned,' Ben said, cutting into his memory and bringing him back to this dry, cold gully in the ground. 'We've got another tough move ahead of us tonight.'

'Ahh, can't sleep,' Ned said tiredly, sitting up away from the rock. 'Thinking about Johnny.'

'Forget it,' Ben said instantly, shifting round to sit beside him. 'He's dead.'

'Yeah,' Ned said, resting back again. 'Better he is. But he was my brother, Ben. Keep thinking about the time in that saloon when the Parker boys come at me, one of 'em with a broken bottle in his hand. Johnny stuck out his bare fist, took that big scar across the back of it.'

He rubbed his fingers over the back of his own hand, thinking of the feel of that ragged scar on Johnny.

'Is that when you lost your sight?' Ben asked quietly.

He nodded. 'Later that night. Got dry gulched. Never did know who it was for sure.'

That memory was short and brutal – walking back toward the horses, none too steady on his feet, and Johnny saying something about taking a piss and disappearing behind the feed store. Ned reaching to loosen the reins from the hitch rail. And then a crack about the back of his head and pain exploding through his body, and falling hard and helpless onto the ground. Very little noise but the strange dampened thuds of fists and boots on his flesh as he lay on the dirt, and the grunts forced from his mouth. He couldn't remember how it had gone from then, or how long he had lain before Johnny had come back. He couldn't remember anything from that time until he had woken in his bed at home, immobile with pain, and blind.

'Oh, I was sick for months from that beating,' he said. Just the memory of it brought a knot into his stomach. But a noise caught his ears and took him away from those thoughts. 'Hey. Someone's coming,' he said, sitting up again. He could hear a horse picking slowly over the soft ground.

Ben darted up and jogged away from him, quiet on quick feet.

'Who is it?' Ned called, rising to his knees and then hovering there, caught between standing up and huddling low, out of sight.

'Stranger,' Ben said shortly. 'Stay here, Ned, and don't move. I'm going out there.'

Ned sat back on his heels and waited, listening hard. He heard Ben move away, but it was hard to make sense of the sounds after that. There were footsteps on the dirt and talking, and then another horse and a new voice. He could hear them shuffling about. There was quiet and then voices again for a good while. And then the sound of fighting, tumbling about and fists hitting bone. Ned sat up straight, fighting with himself to stay where he was. He knew that if he lost Ben he would have no chance out here, but if it were one of the Parker gang out there he would have no chance anyway.

He heard coughing like someone had caught a fist to the stomach, and then more blows. Then someone shouted and the fighting stopped and everyone moved together. There were Indian ponies somewhere in the distance, and much closer than them there were people walking towards him, their boots striking the dirt and the horses walking alongside them.

'Ben?' he asked nervously as they came down into the gully.

'It's me, Ned,' Ben said quickly. 'I'm all right.'

He exhaled a long breath of relief. 'I heard Indian ponies.'

'They didn't spot us,' Ben assured him.

Ned sat still and listened. It was obvious Ben wasn't alone but he couldn't tell how many men were there.

'Who's with you?' he asked.

'Couple of strangers travelling the same way we are,' Ben told him easily.

Ned relaxed a little. Anyone who wasn't out to kill him could only be a help. It didn't explain the fight he had heard, but if Ben didn't want to mention it then Ned had the sense to stay quiet about it too.

'My name's Ned,' he said. 'Howdy, strangers.'

He waited for a moment for a response, but there was none. He was used to that. Some folks were struck strange when they noticed he was blind, as if they didn't know what to say. But then he heard the ponies again, closer and coming in their direction.

'Riders coming this way,' he said quickly. 'Ain't white men. Them horses got no shoes.'

One of the strangers was running before he'd even finished speaking.

'Come on, Ned,' Ben said urgently, grabbing him under the arm and hauling him to his feet.

One of the horses set up a whinnying under the trees. The two strangers were running and calling out in short, sharp sentences as Ned followed Ben out of the gully, stumbling up the dusty slope.

'Get hold of that horse's muzzle, Ned,' Ben said, thrusting him towards the hindquarters of the whinnying horse and then pounding off in another direction.

Ned felt along the horse to its head, glad to be holding the animal if only so that he could mount it and ride away if need be. He hated himself for it, but he had no other defence but running or hiding. The horse lifted its head and neighed again and he tried to pull it down to put his hands about its soft nose.

'Keep that horse quiet!' someone shouted, running over to him and jerking the horse's head down roughly a moment before Ned could get his own hands around it. 'That ought to hold the sound in you.'

The man's voice was eerily familiar. Ned moved his hands down the horse's head to replace that man's grip on its muzzle with his own. His fingers moved over the back of the man's hands, and over a thick scar that snaked across his skin. It was a scar he had never seen, but only felt.

'Johnny?' he asked in amazement. 'It's you, ain't it?'

'Yeah, I'm back, Neddy boy,' Johnny said dryly.

Anger welled up in him suddenly like boiling water. All that time waiting for Johnny to come back, the ranch falling apart around them, and then the grief of hearing Johnny was dead, and poor Uncle Charlie giving up his life for what Johnny had done. If Johnny had been alive all that time he should have been _there_, there to draw his guns quick as lightning and see to Dave Parker and send him to his grave. Ned was too mad to think, almost too mad to speak, at all that pain and hardship that had come just through Johnny.

'_Why?_' he grated in fury. 'Why d'you come back?'

'For you,' Johnny said, as if he were surprised that Ned would ask.

Three shots rang out one after the other and Johnny pulled away from him urgently.

'We'll talk about it later.'

Ned grabbed at his cuff and followed him, taking hold of him by his arm and yanking him to a standstill.

'Did you give yourself up on the ridge, Johnny?' he snapped. 'Did you? Did you?'

'Yeah,' Johnny said, beginning to move away again. 'Now let me go, will you?'

Ned pulled him back viciously and grabbed him harder. 'You're supposed to be _dead_. You shoulda stayed dead.'

Ben was shouting from a distance, desperation in his voice, but Ned kept hold of Johnny, stopping him from running off. If he let go of him now he might never see him again, never get a chance to hear those answers he desperately needed.

'Why did you give yourself up on the ridge, Johnny?' Ned persisted.

He took hold of Johnny by his coat lapels and shook him, the anger hazing out his awareness of anything else around them. He wanted to punch Johnny, to beat him for what he had done. He wanted to be fifteen and able to see, and to roll about on the dirt fighting him until all the fight had left him. Johnny would beat him, he knew that, but he would feel better for it all the same.

'_Why?_' he snapped, his hands tight on the cloth of Johnny's coat.

'Look, Ned, this ain't the time to talk!'

Ned shook him again. 'I want to know _why_ – now tell me!'

Johnny kept trying to pull away, trying to knock Ned's hands from his coat. 'Ned, would you let go of me – '

'_Tell me!_'

'Ned, you're making – '

The gunshots were thickening. Johnny gave up arguing abruptly and the shock of his fist slammed into the side of Ned's face. Ned staggered backwards, falling onto the ground, half senseless from the blow. Dimly he heard Johnny running, but his ears were ringing, the blood pulsing in his temples. He rolled over, and lay still.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

He came to with his face in the dirt, breathing dry dust into his mouth and nose. The horses were stirring nearby, the trees rustling above his head. He pressed a hand slowly to his bruised cheek. Johnny had hit him. _Johnny…_

Shots were firing somewhere, echoing like thunder from the canyon walls. Panic clenched at him as a realisation crept into his head. Ben wanted to kill Johnny. That meant that Johnny would mean to kill Ben first. That fist fighting he had heard when Johnny first arrived made sense now. It would be so easy for Johnny to shoot Ben and say that the Indians got him.

'Ben?' he called out, staggering to his feet.

There was no answer. Nothing but the sound of gunshots cracking and echoing somewhere away in front of him.

'Ben?' he called again, his voice cracking with fear. 'Ben!'

He ran towards the noise and tripped as the ground rose up, falling face forward again onto the ground. He was running and falling, running and falling, calling out for Ben, but Ben didn't answer. The dust billowed up around him every time he fell and filled the inside of his mouth and his lungs. There was nothing under his hands but dry, sandy earth that slipped through his fingers. With all the echoing from the cliffs he couldn't work out where the shots were coming from and he was running across a wilderness with bullets flying, no idea if Ben were dead or alive. He had been stupid to even move, but it was too late now. He was caught in the open and had no clue which way to go.

Footsteps thudded behind him and someone barrelled onto him and pushed him to the ground, half dragging him over the dirt until he hit against the shelter of tree roots exposed and roughened by the wind. The smell of sweat and stale tobacco smoke was strong around him, coming from that man who had hold of him. He didn't want it to be Johnny.

'Ben?' he asked, something close to a sob in his voice now. 'That you, Ben?'

'It's me, Ned,' Ben said, his voice tense but reassuring. 'Keep down!'

Ned huddled down, waves of relief pouring through his body. Ben's arm was solid over his back, holding him pressed down to the ground. The shooting was right overhead. There was an Indian so close to him he could hear his breathing. He could smell sweat mixed up with his deerskin clothes. He heard running again and Johnny giving a kind of war cry, and then both Johnny's guns fired simultaneously and Ned heard bodies thud to the ground just a few feet away from where he was.

Quiet settled around them. It was still and silent for a long few seconds. Then Johnny moved, his footsteps muffled in the dust. Ben sat up and let go of Ned with a rough parting shake.

'You fool! You darn crazy fool!' he told Ned, his voice strained with anger and spent fear.

Ned sat up, still breathing hard from the running and the fear. He pressed his hands onto the dry dirt, feeling the angle of the slope beneath him.

'Don't be in such a rush to get killed,' Johnny said tersely nearby. 'It might come to you soon enough.'

Ned had to keep himself from lurching at Johnny. He knew that Johnny had just saved his life with those two simultaneous shots over his head, but he was still so mad at him that he could have hit him.

'Why d'you give yourself up on the ridge, Johnny?' Ned asked him. He wanted Johnny to say _something_ that would redeem him for all he had done, that would give Ned a reason to forgive him. 'You ain't a coward. Why?'

'Because I wasn't going to get my head blowed off knowing the war was ending,' Johnny said sharply. 'Some general sitting on his big fat headquarters trying to make a show for himself. Besides, the Parker boys was in that outfit. I didn't bleed none for them.'

'There was my brother and me,' Ben reminded him in a level voice, 'and other men.'

'Ain't that funny?' Johnny said, his voice rich with sarcasm. 'I was thinking about _my_ brother, and me.'

'It was your duty,' Ned snapped.

It hurt to have Johnny mention him like that, as if he were trying to draw Ned into what he'd done. He didn't want to think that any consideration of him had been pulling at Johnny's thoughts when he made the decision to bail out and give himself up, and leave Ben's brother and all those other men to certain death. The thought of that made his chest tighten.

'A man that gets killed doing his duty ain't any more alive than a man that just gets plain killed,' Johnny retorted. 'Course, I ain't never had an opinion from anyone it's ever happened to,' he added acerbically.

'Don't make me your excuse, Johnny,' Ned said in disgust.

'I ain't,' Johnny said, striding towards Ned in his anger. 'You asked me – I'm telling you why. Three years of fighting, wounded five times. I saw the end in sight. I wasn't going to get killed for nothing.'

Johnny fell silent, but Ned could feel the anger still in him. He was pacing about as if things were moving in his mind, his footsteps thickening the air with dust. Ned barely moved. He was pinned to the dirt with tiredness and a misery so deep it was about to break him apart. He tried to think of what it had been like for Johnny in the middle of all that fighting, seeing so much death – but he couldn't imagine allowing all those men to die just to save his own hide.

'We're going to take that coach out of Fort Defiance for San Francisco,' Johnny said finally, turning back to him.

Ned sat still, speechless. He never had been able to fight against Johnny, least of all now when he couldn't see and Johnny was his only family left. But the idea of going away with Johnny made him sick with fear. He didn't want to live with him, to be reliant on him for everything. He wanted to stay here, where he belonged, in the house and the land that he knew. He would rather stay sitting right here, out in the canyon in the dirt, than go with Johnny to San Francisco.

'You ain't going to get on that coach if I can help it,' Ben said with a threat in his voice, starting forward towards Johnny.

'Don't do it, Ben,' Ned said brokenly. 'He's fast. He's too fast.'

'Yeah, I know,' Ben said. 'Like a snake.'

'And twice as nasty,' Johnny completed as if reciting a trademark. 'So stop making a pest out of yourself, Mister Only Survivor. I'm already more than beholden to you for what you've done for Ned.' He turned away from Ben and moved back to Ned, leaning forward to put himself level with his brother. 'Now, look. Let's be practical. I got five thousand dollars to get your eyes fixed.'

Ned shook his head. Five thousand dollars was an amount of money he couldn't imagine. It was the kind of money that came in dreams – but he didn't even have to think his reply through.

'I don't want any of it.'

'Where'd that rotten money come from?' Ben asked derisively.

'Listen, mister, you're talking about the stuff I love,' Johnny drawled in reply. 'Where does anyone go for money? To a bank.'

'Look out!'

Ned had almost forgotten about Johnny's companion, the quiet man that he hadn't yet spoken to or even heard speak. But at the stranger's shout he threw himself to the dirt, hearing slow, creeping footsteps somewhere nearby. A shot rang out from behind him, and then another in the other direction, and bodies fell.

'Ben?' he called quickly, no idea who had been shot or how bad they were hurt. 'Ben?'

'Uhuh, I'm all right,' Ben said calmly from nearby.

'Appears to me you're more worried about him than your own brother,' Johnny said tightly.

Ned didn't reply. He didn't have it in him to tell Johnny, _Yes, Ben's been more of a brother to me than you have in a long time. Yes, I'd rather lose you than him_. He let those thoughts run in his head and kept his mouth tight shut. But if it wasn't Ben or Johnny who had fallen then it must have been the other man, and it must have been one last Indian who had taken that first shot.

'Hankey was a good man,' Johnny said slowly. 'He didn't have any feelings about anything. All he had was loyalty.'

Ned pressed his lips together hard, feeling sick. He hadn't even learnt the man's name until now. He sat very still, knowing that less than a few yards away was the dead body of a man who would not have been dead if Johnny had not rode out here after his brother. All around them were the dead bodies of Indians who were mad at having their land taken away from them. Maybe there was even Brave Bear, who had been something of a friend to Ned.

Johnny seemed to leave trails of death behind him, and all in the name of helping his brother. Perhaps Ned had more feelings than Johnny thought he ought. Perhaps Ned was not loyal enough to him any more – but he did not want any more blood let out on his account.

'It's still daylight, but we'd better get out of here,' Johnny said, unstrapping the dead man's gun belt. 'There'll be other Indians looking after these. Now, we can't get out of the east or the west end of the canyon. There's Indians growing out of the rocks at those passes.'

'Then where?' Ben asked.

'Well, there's a pass to the north that few knows about.'

'And now will you give me a gun?' Ben asked.

Ned stiffened. He hadn't realised that all this time Johnny had left Ben defenceless. All that time it had just been Johnny and his friend shooting, and Ben had run out after Ned with no weapon in his hand.

'We might need all the shooting can be done to get out of here,' Ben persisted. 'I ain't never shot a man in the back. Don't reckon I could. Not even you.'

There was silence. And then Ned heard Ben catching the gun and holster that Johnny tossed it to him. He felt a whole degree safer with Ben armed.

Ben buckled the belt on, then asked easily, 'Do you mind if I heft it?'

'Go ahead,' Johnny said, but as he spoke there was the slick sound of him snapping his own guns out and levelling them on Ben. 'Please. Don't do nothing that'll make me have to kill you,' Johnny added in deadly earnest.

Ned sat and waited. He heard Ben throwing the gun up and catching it as if to test its weight in his hand. Johnny's guns made no sound at all. And then Ben slid his weapon back into its holster, and a moment later Johnny did the same. Ned's shoulders relaxed slowly. He felt as if he were sitting on dynamite, but he was almost certain he could trust Ben not to set it off.

'Guess we should get a move on,' Johnny said after a moment. 'Come on, Ned.'

'What about him?' Ben asked, and Ned lifted his head, wondering if Ben was referring to him.

'We haven't got time for Christian burials,' Johnny said crisply, and Ned realised that Ben was thinking of the body of Hankey, lying unburied on the dirt. 'He'd understand that as well as I do.'

'Well, I'd as soon not leave him for the coyotes,' Ben said firmly.

Ned stood up, dusting off his pants and jacket and hitching up his belt. 'Ben's right. We can't leave him out on the ground. It ain't right.'

'Ned, are you going to spend this whole time fighting with me?' Johnny began in a warning voice, taking a few steps closer to him.

Ned moved backwards instinctively and a tree branch caught at his hat, reminding him of what was behind him.

'I ain't a kid any more, Johnny,' he said, straightening his hat again.

'No, you ain't,' Johnny said. 'But I'm all the family you got left in this world, Neddy boy, and it's my job to take care of you. You ain't a kid, but you're blind on my account.'

'Then Uncle Charlie _is_ dead,' Ned said slowly, pushing his hands into his pockets and turning away.

'Yeah,' Johnny said economically. 'Came across three of Dave Parker's lot putting him in the ground. I sent two of them after him, only I didn't stick around to put _them_ in the ground too. I'm happy to let the coyotes get 'em.'

'That's as may be, but Hankey was _your_ man,' Ben reminded him.

'Yeah,' Johnny said. 'And I ain't going to get Ned killed by staying around here burying him.' He caught at Ned's coat arm and pulled. 'Come on, Ned. We need to make that pass before all them Indians' pals try to join the party.'

Ned stood still. It didn't seem right to leave Hankey. Even the Parker gang had the decency to bury poor Uncle Charlie. But he knew that Johnny was right. They didn't have the equipment to dig a hole for Hankey and they didn't have time even to cover him in stones.

He pulled his sleeve away from Johnny's hand and turned deliberately towards Ben.

'Ben?' he asked. 'Would you give me a hand back to the horses?'

A difficult silence fell. Ned could feel the unspoken tension moving between Ben and Johnny. And then Ben moved over to him and said, 'Sure, Ned. I'm here.'

Ned slipped his fingers about Ben's arm. Perhaps he did have to go with Johnny, but he didn't have to be in tow to Johnny. He didn't want to touch Johnny right now. He wanted to have everyone be silent and to pretend that Johnny's footfalls were just the echoes of Ben's.

Poor Uncle Charlie… Ned had been sure that he was dead, but now he _knew_, and the knowing was far worse than the supposition. He felt as if something had fallen from his chest, just under his lungs, making every breath a long and hard fight against gravity. Uncle Charlie had been there forever, and had taken care of Ned in his blindness for four years. Sure he had been overprotective at times, but he had never let Ned down, never left him without help. Ned didn't know which way to turn at the thought of there being no Uncle Charlie left in the world.

'Y'all right, Ned?' Ben asked in a low voice as Ned stumbled over a rough piece of ground. Johnny was walking ahead, impatient to get out of here, kicking up dust in his wake.

'Yeah,' Ned said shortly. He knew that Ben could tell he was not all right, and why. There was no need to say anything else.

'You want to go to San Francisco with your brother?'

Ned stiffened. 'I ain't going to San Francisco,' he said. 'I don't reckon even five thousand dollars could fix my eyes. They're too far gone. Johnny always thinks he can fix things. He can't fix this.'

'No, I don't reckon he can,' Ben said slowly.

'You ain't going to leave me with Johnny, Ben?' Ned asked uncertainly.

'Why'd I leave you with a man I intend to kill first chance I get?' Ben said with deadly seriousness. 'Besides. You know we're partners.'

'Yeah, I know,' Ned said.

He had never felt such a gulf between him and Johnny as he did now, especially with Ben standing there as a kind of yardstick to hold Johnny up against. Even when he thought Johnny was dead he hadn't felt such a distance between them. When he had heard how Johnny had lived by robbing and murdering after the war ended it seemed like a painted, smiling, china Johnny had been smashed in his mind. That Johnny had been gilt and perfect, and had never really existed. He had put those shards to rest and moved on. But now Johnny was here again, solid and real, trying to take the money he had stolen and press it on to Ned, to tarnish him too. He didn't know Johnny any more and he didn't know what to do with him. He kept hold of Ben's arm and prayed that what Uncle Charlie had said was true, that God had given him Ben as a brother in place of Johnny. It was a trade that he would stick to any day.


	11. Chapter 11

11.

Ned felt like the last few days were split from the rest of his life like a broken bough that had fallen from a tree. This time had been an endless circle of hunger, riding, stumbling over loose ground, and hiding from a nation of people who wanted to kill him for someone else's sin. He was sore with riding and walking and the side of his face ached where Johnny had hit him. If someone had offered him a bed he would have lain down in it and slept without even taking his boots off, no matter who owned that bed.

They were walking up a hill, trying to make the climb out of the north side of the canyon towards the pass that Johnny knew of. There were rocks like _chevaux de frise_ all up the slope, hard and unyielding every time Ned's boots slipped on them. He could hear Johnny leading his horse up ahead, Ben behind Johnny with his own horse. Ned was holding on to Doggone's tail, walking in the wake of the scent of leather tack and the horses and the dung they dropped. He was so tired he didn't care about that when he felt it soft underfoot.

The ground flattened out and Doggone stopped walking as the other horses halted in front of him. Ned stumbled over a rock and caught up with the horse, thankful at last to be on level ground.

'You tired, Ned?' Ben asked from just ahead.

'No more tired than anybody else,' Ned said quickly, stumbling forward as the horse shifted position. He patted Doggone's flank gently with one hand, keeping hold of the tail with the other.

'Well, we'll rest up on top here for a while,' Johnny said. 'But we gotta get out of these canyons.'

Johnny didn't sound tired at all, but he was able to see through Ned's bravado. Ned was exhausted. The horses moved on and Ned followed, his legs moving like wood, the ground a layer of soft over hardness beneath the soles of his boots. There seemed to be no more rocks now the ground was flat, thank the Lord – nothing but the occasional stubborn hump of plants with dust driven into their roots. But there was a wind up here that hadn't been so strong on the canyon floor. The air was colder and dust scudded over the ground with a soft sound.

The horses stopped again and Ben tied them off. Ned stood holding onto Doggone's tail stupidly for a moment, and then he dropped his hand and took a step forward, away from the horse.

'Come on, Ned,' Johnny said, closing a hand around his arm with a firm gentleness. 'I'll find somewhere for you to set down.'

Ned followed him. It was odd to be so close to Johnny after he had been gone for so long. He felt strange and familiar all at once. His coat felt different to Ben's, and different to the coat he remembered Johnny having all that time ago. It was a finer weave, softer and more slick with the grease of wear than Ben's. But his smell was the same – the smell of his tobacco thick in the fabric of his clothes and the smell of his sweat a family smell, not that of a stranger. He smelt something like Uncle Charlie – they had always smoked the same blend. Ned felt a rising of sorrow for Uncle Charlie, and sorrow for what Johnny wasn't. He wanted his family.

'Ned, you don't know what it's like, being at war,' Johnny said abruptly, breaking the thick silence.

'You gonna give me more excuses, Johnny?' Ned asked, turning his face away.

'I ain't giving you excuses. I don't have to excuse myself to you, Ned,' Johnny retorted quickly. 'I'm your brother. It's my duty to take care of you, and I'm going to. I've seen men split apart by cannon, nothing left but blood and brains and splintered bone. There ain't no glory in that. There ain't no immortal soul. There's just meat, trodden into the mud under other men's boots. I wasn't going to be one of those men. I needed to be alive so I could come home and take care of you.'

'They why d'you stay away?' Ned asked fiercely. 'It's been five months nearly since the war ended. It don't take five months to get from Tennessee to Arizona.'

'It don't take two weeks, neither.'

'I guess it takes longer when you stop to rob a bank or murder some folks,' Ned said darkly.

Johnny stopped abruptly, jerking at Ned's coat angrily to turn him about.

'Now look here, Ned. I didn't go robbing no banks for the fun of it. How am I gonna take care of you without money? How am I gonna get your eyes fixed? You think a charitable surgeon's gonna offer to fix you for nothing?'

'I ain't going to San Francisco and I ain't seeing no doctors with that dirty money,' Ned growled, pulling his arm away from Johnny's hand. 'Doc Walters told me when it happened that there weren't no fixing could be done. Said that blow had clean ripped the insides of my eyes apart.'

'Doc Walters,' Johnny said scornfully. 'He ain't no eye doctor. He ain't no city surgeon. It's my fault you've got this handicap, Ned. I'm going to see you right, and I don't care how many men I have to knock out of the way to do it.'

Ned pressed his mouth closed. He didn't want Johnny to knock anyone else out of the way on his account, but he knew there was no use in talking. Johnny had never listened to anyone else. He had always gone his own way, trailing fire and thunder in his wake.

'We at a place we can rest yet?' he asked. He had the feeling they had been walking in circles, just so that Johnny could talk. The horses didn't sound far away and he could hear Ben walking across the dry dirt to them.

'Yeah,' Johnny said shortly. 'Yeah, we are.'

'There any cover? It's cold.'

'No,' said Johnny, 'but it's a good vantage point. We'll be able to see any of those red devils before they see us.'

'Bunk down, Ned,' Ben said, coming to stand on his other side and putting a hand on his arm. 'Get some rest.'

'You gonna get some rest too, Ben?' Ned asked him. He was concerned for Ben to rest himself, but he was also worried about what might happen to Ben if he slept. He couldn't trust Johnny.

'Yeah,' Ben said slowly, but there was doubt thick in his voice.

'Sure he is,' Johnny said. 'I'll keep watch.'

'I just bet you will,' Ben murmured.

'Well, I ain't going to let you kill me in my sleep,' Johnny retorted. 'Ned, get some rest,' he said, striking Ned's arm softly. 'We ain't got too much time to waste.'

Ned lay down on the ground right where he was, brushing his hand over the dust and then settling on his side. The ground was cold underneath him and the air was cold above him and the wind cut past him quietly, blowing right through his clothes, it seemed, and reaching straight to his skin. He could feel the movement of Doggone's back under him, as if he were still riding. He was so tired that the cold and the dizzy feeling of riding didn't matter. He tipped his hat down over his face and slept.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

He dreamt he was lying on a bed made of stone, the cold creeping through beneath him and falling down above him in tiny crystals of frost. Johnny was watching him, his guns held loosely in relaxed hands. Ned knew he couldn't move without Johnny. He knew that if he tried to walk away those hands would tighten and the guns would point at him. Johnny was like a snake in the sun, waiting to strike. Johnny hated himself for holding the guns on Ned, but he wouldn't let them drop…

The cold was cutting through everything. Ned wasn't tired enough to sleep through it any more. He moved restlessly, clutching at covers in his sleep that didn't exist. And then he dreamed that Uncle Charlie was tucking a blanket over his shoulders and some of the cold was softened, and he slept on.

Time folded and stretched inside his mind, dreams threading through his sleep. He heard noises. There were noises of fighting, of scuffling on the dirt. There were the grunts of men locked together and fighting like dogs, quiet and intense. Ned woke abruptly and twisted towards the noises, calling out, 'Ben? Ben?'

The sound cut off instantly and Johnny shouted from a distance away, 'Nothing, Ned. Horses stirring. They're cold too.'

He sounded out of breath. Johnny and Ben walked back towards him making sounds of brushing dust from their clothes and catching their breath. The horses were making no noise at all.

Ned touched his hand to his hat to straighten it, then made to lie back down. He felt something heavy on his body and brushed his fingers over what had been laid over him. It was Ben's coat.

'Thanks, Ben,' he said gratefully. That explained the dream of Uncle Charlie and the blanket. That warmth had allowed him to stay asleep. Ben must be freezing in nothing but his shirt.

He laid his head back on the ground, holding his hat down with his hand. As he did a second coat was laid over his legs, and Johnny said, 'Here y'are, Ned.'

'Thanks,' Ned said uncertainly.

He rested his head back down, but there was little chance of slipping back into sleep now. He could hear horses moving in the canyon bottom. It sounded like a multitude moving, the voices of men rising up indistinct and blown by the wind. Ben whispered something from somewhere near the edge of the plateau and Johnny walked over to him quickly. Ned lay still, gathering warmth under the coats, listening but catching no clear words. Ben and Johnny were talking low and turned away from him. And then after a while Johnny rose up and his voice was louder.

'…trying to figure out how to fix Dave Parker and get Ned out of Fort Defiance,' he said, his feet moving about on the ground and his voice moving closer and further away. 'Now I've gotta figure out how to try to keep you from coming up against me so I won't have to kill you, and if that wasn't enough of a puzzlement, on top of that I've got the whole darn Indian nation to contend with, and on top of that it's colder than a tinhorn gambler's heart.'

Ned couldn't help but smile quietly under his hat. For just a moment he felt sorry for Johnny. He felt sorry for Johnny, and he felt a tiny, uncharitable spear of gladness too. If Johnny hadn't stayed away so long and done so much wrong he wouldn't be coming up against these difficulties now.

There was quiet, and then Johnny said, 'Well. Let's get started. If we keep moving we'll be out of here by sundown.'

Both men moved then, coming over to Ned. The coats were lifted from him, letting the cold in again.

'Ned,' Johnny said shortly, taking hold of his elbow and hauling him up.

Ned stood, shaking off sleep, and followed Johnny's pull back to the horses. Somewhere below he could still hear the sound as of hundreds of hooves moving on the earth.

'What is that, Ben?' he asked. 'Indians?'

'Yeah,' Ben said. 'Must be close on a hundred of them down in the bottoms. They're making a move out of the canyon.'

'Sure am glad we're up here,' Ned smiled.

The horses walked on, and in the valley below the sound of the Indians swelled and faded with the wind and the terrain. For a while they were almost inaudible as their paths diverged, and then Ned could hear them again, louder than ever.

'We'll be out on the plains before the sun's gone,' Johnny said, bringing his horse to a halt for a moment.

Ned sat on Doggone, flanked by Ben and Johnny, listening to the world about him. He could smell the dust that was being raised into the air by all of those moving feet down below. As he listened he realised that he could hear horses running now, and rising above that the whooping of the Indians. They didn't sound like they were just travelling steadily any more. Shots began to sound, echoing like swift thunderbolts. And then Ben said urgently, 'Hey, look there!'

'I can hear a wagon,' Ned said, turning his head.

'It's not a wagon, it's a stagecoach,' Johnny snapped. 'And the Indians got them running hell for leather. Come on!'

Ned spurred his horse on as he heard Johnny taking off. They were riding back down that hill, back down into the canyon bottoms that they had spent so long climbing out of. The sounds of whooping and shooting and horses running grew louder. They were riding straight towards that creaking, rattling noise of the stagecoach being driven at speed over rough land.

The stage had stopped as they drew up to it, but the noise of the Indians was still whirling and gathering about, shots still snapping through the air. And then a strange silence fell. They were still there – Ned was sure of that – but the Indians had stopped chasing.

'They're lining up, getting ready for an attack,' Ben called across to him as the horses skewed to a standstill. 'Come on, Ned. Hunker down behind the coach here,'

Ned swung to the ground and ran with Ben gripping at his arm. His outstretched hand hit the arc of the coach wheel with a slap and he dropped to his knees, ducking his head and cursing himself for his uselessness. He could have been another gun to fend off the Indians, and instead he was kneeling here, hiding like a jackrabbit in a scrape in the ground.

'Any spare guns?' Johnny was shouting as he ran.

A stranger, a man with a rough voice, called, 'Yeah, there's guns and shells in the coach.'

Ned sat back on his heels. A hand touched his back for a moment. Someone was crouching beside him. Then there was the thud as something was dumped onto the ground in front of him and he reached out and felt the thin wood of an ammunition box.

'Load those guns – make yourself useful,' Johnny shouted.

The Indians were starting their whooping again. Someone thrust a rifle into Ned's hands and he slipped his fingers over it. It was a long time since he had loaded a rifle but he could remember well enough how to do it. He slipped cartridge after cartridge into the chamber. When it was full someone snatched it from him and pushed another into his hands.

'Now, hold your fire until I tell you,' Johnny shouted.

The Indians were rushing closer, closer, the horses' hooves thudding onto the ground, their cries rising high above every other noise. Johnny waited until the first shot was fired by the attackers, and then shouted, 'Now!'

Ned kept on loading the guns. The Indians charged and retreated in waves. He kept plunging his hand into the box of cartridges and slipping them into the weapons he was given.

The person beside him was a woman, he realised. The small sounds she made as she worked at loading guns beside him were a woman's sounds, and when their hands clashed in the ammunition box he could feel the smallness of her fingers. Once something soft brushed against his face as if she had flung a shawl impatiently back over her shoulder and it had blown out and touched him. He had never expected to run across a woman in circumstances like this.

He listened keenly as he worked, noting the occasional thuds as one of the Indians fell from his horse and hit the ground. He didn't hear any sounds of injury or death in his own party. He kept listening for Johnny's voice and for Ben's voice and he kept hearing them, snapping out orders or muttering quick curses. They must, slowly, be evening the odds. And then, eventually, the noise of the Indians receded and kept receding. They were riding away.

Ned held his breath, waiting to hear what would happen.

'Wonder what they're going to do now,' Johnny said nervously.

'Gone to get others,' one of the strangers said – the man Ned had heard before. 'Sun'll be gone in a couple of minutes, and I don't believe they'll attack at night.'

'If they don't, there'll be a swarm of them when day breaks,' Johnny said grimly.

'I knew this would happen when we left Willerton,' the man said fatalistically.

'Willerton?

'Yup. We're the first stage out in a week.'

'That's where my wife's coming from,' Ben said in concern, starting forward.

'Well, there was a couple of passengers, but they decided not to buy tickets with this Indian showdown coming on,' the man told him. 'Now, if your wife happened to be one of those she can probably get out on the next stage. That is, if it's possible.'

'How come _she_ bought a ticket?' Johnny asked in a low voice.

Ned listened closely. The woman who had been beside him had barely spoken to him. She had just carried on loading and passing on the rifles as fast and efficient as any man. Now she had moved away and was standing somewhere near the horses.

'She didn't buy no ticket,' the man said, his voice equally quiet. 'A committee in the town bought one for her. She wasn't bothering no one. They shouldn't've done it to her – leastways, not this time.'

Ned frowned. He couldn't imagine what would make a town of people send a woman out on a stage at a time like this.

'What made _you_ go?' Johnny asked.

'Mail contracts,' the man said with resigned fatality. 'Gotta show good deliveries or you lose 'em, and you can't operate a stage on just passengers.'

The man unscrewed a lid and drank from a bottle that sounded near empty. The scent of cheap liquor drifted to Ned on the wind.

'Sure wished I could've had a drink of that real Eastern whiskey they was going to have at the Fort for Christmas,' the man lamented quietly.

Ned huddled down by the wagon wheel. All thought of Christmas had been driven from his mind until now. He had forgotten that Christmas tree waiting for Ben's wife and the thought of settling down and eating well and being thankful for one long, quiet day. And that man thought they were going to die here. After all these hours riding and running they were going to die by this stagecoach out in the bottom of the canyon, shot down by Indians. But they had Johnny and Ben here. Johnny had been the best rifleman in his unit. Ned didn't know what to believe about Johnny any more, but he did believe that.


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Night had come, soft and thin with cold. There were drums somewhere in the hills making a low, steady, menacing beat. They were faster than a heartbeat and seemed to be part of the rocks and the earth as much as the wind that moved the dust and the animals that crept behind stands of grass.

Ned sat huddled against the wheel of the stagecoach, his arms about his knees, waiting. He wasn't sure what it was he was waiting for – for time to slip past, for the Indians to come out of the hills and attack, for the dawn to come with chill dew and quiet. Ben had said that the dark was starred with fires, like beacons, in the hills. There were hundreds of Navajo out there, striking their drums and letting the folks by the stagecoach know that they were gathering. Ned felt small and defenceless. All he could do to stay alive was keep down and pray hard.

The men were talking, but Ned had no part in that. They were talking about the best places to shoot from and where the Indians might come from and how many bullets they had left. All Ned could do when the time came was load rifles and pass them on. There were Ben and Johnny and three others. The rough-voiced man with his bottle of nearly empty liquor was the coach driver. There was another man – a hired gun – and a boy with a voice not-long broken and a nervous impatience that made him never sit still for more than five minutes. That made five folks that could shoot, but with the amount of Indians gathering it would be like trying to shelter from the rainfall under a single leaf.

The woman was beside him, sitting on the dirt like him. She was as close as she could be without touching him. She smelt clean and fresh, unlike the men clustered about. Tobacco scent drifted through the air from the men, but she smelt of nothing but her clothes and cleanness.

It took him a long time to gather the nerve to speak to her. She seemed closed in on herself, afraid of more than just the Indians. She stayed close to him for warmth, because it would not do for her to stride about and see to the horses and smoke like the men were, but she said nothing.

He turned toward her, opened his mouth, and shut it again. He adjusted his hat and stretched one leg at a time, and then turned to her again. Finally he said to her, 'My name's Edward, ma'am. Ned, that is.'

'Oh,' she said softly, as if he had startled her from a dream. 'Julie. I'm Julie.'

'I'm real pleased to meet you,' Ned said with a quick smile. Those words were easy, but he didn't know what to say next.

'Yeah,' she said, as if she were caught up in that dream again. 'Pleased to meet you.'

'Er – Have you come far, ma'am?' Ned asked, fiddling with the brim of his hat.

'Just from Willerton,' she said. 'My – er – my folks had a ranch outside of Willerton,' she said in a sudden rush.

Ned nodded, suddenly self-conscious with the memory of the coach driver saying how the town committee had bought her a ticket. He couldn't think why they would spend all that money on a ticket just to send her away. Her accent was Arizona, like his, but she didn't sound like she had been brought up rough and unfinished like him. She sounded like a lady from town, not like a girl that had grown up away from other folks and living half wild on a ranch.

'It's – Well, I heard it's good grazing land outside of Willerton,' Ned said.

'Yeah,' she said.

'Where are you heading, ma'am?' Ned asked.

'Well, I was hoping to – '

She broke off as the sound of the drums intensified. Ned turned his head, listening, his entire attention caught up in that rhythm. He seemed to be transported to the hills, imagining the fires burning and the men standing round, maybe dancing, maybe just beating those drums. The fire would flicker over their faces and show them in bronzed glimpses. Those men owned the hills. They owned the land. They knew how to live out here.

He drew himself back to the cold and the feel of the coachwheel against his back and the great emptiness before him. His hands were chilled and he rubbed them together and thrust them into the armpits of his coat.

'Er – you – you were saying, ma'am?' he asked, turning back towards the woman.

'Yeah, well…' she said, as distracted by the drums as he was. 'I'm on my way to San Francisco.'

'Mmm,' he nodded. 'You got folks there?'

'No, I – I'm hoping to start a business,' she said awkwardly. Her dress rustled as she shuffled on the ground and Ned wondered for a fleeting moment what that fabric looked like, and if it were pretty.

'Business?' he asked curiously. 'What kind of business?'

She moved again awkwardly. He could hear the soft noise of skin slipping over skin as she stroked her hand up her arm, rubbing warmth into her flesh.

'Well, I'm – I'm not really sure.'

'Well, what kind of business were you in before, ma'am?' he prompted her.

'Umm… Well, I'm hoping to start a new business,' she said quickly. 'Maybe sewing.'

She was growing more awkward the more he pressed her. He thought again about what the coach driver had said, and wondered again what she was leaving behind her.

'Did you – you say your name was Julie, ma'am?' he asked her, as the only way he could think of to change the subject.

'Yeah,' she said. 'Julie Morse.'

'Julie,' Ned repeated, feeling the shape of it on his tongue. 'That's a real pretty name.'

The coach shook as someone jumped down suddenly from the back, and Ned's head jerked up.

'I'm gettin' tired of that same old song.'

It was the boy, his impatience and fear finally overcoming him.

'I'm gettin' out of here,' he said, pacing up and down on the ground. Ned could hear the rifle he carried as he passed and passed again.

'Now, look, sonny,' the coach driver reasoned. 'Don't get smart just cause you've killed your first Indian. You ain't got a chance out there.'

'Well there ain't no chance waitin' for the dawn, either,' the boy said, desperation threading into his voice. He was only a moment away from breaking. 'Anyone else want to try with me? You?'

There was silence. Ned sat still and waited. He heard the boy mount a horse and canter away. His first thought was, _I hope he didn't take Doggone…_

'He's gonna be dead before he knows what's happened, the darn fool,' Ben said in a low voice.

'Yeah,' Johnny said concisely.

Ned closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wagon wheel. He thought of the Lord up in heaven and tried to ask Him to spare the boy. But he couldn't believe in what he was asking. He wanted the Lord to spare them all. He wanted Him to spare the Indians from the troubles that were being laid upon them. He wanted Him to take Johnny aside and make him lead a good, quiet life somewhere else. He wanted Him to let him and Ben and Ben's wife live in peace and quiet, with the sound of cattle lowing somewhere in the bluffs and invisible condors passing over with their wide, spreading wings and their guttural cawing calls, and the fire burning in the stove when it was winter and cold water in the well when it was summer. That boy was a fool. He hadn't a chance of making it out of the canyon.

The drums kept on beating. They were so constant that sometimes they caught him and he almost tapped his foot to their rhythm. And then he remembered what they meant and held his foot still before it could move on the dirt. He sat still then for a long time. He might have drifted into sleep but he couldn't be sure. If he did, the drums were in his dreams too.

'Ned?' Julie said from beside him.

Ned turned his head in surprise. It was the first time she had used his name.

'What is it, Miss Julie?' he asked, then caught himself. 'You ain't married, ma'am?' he asked carefully.

'No,' she said simply. 'That boy's going to die. Isn't he?'

Ned bit his lip into his mouth and then nodded slowly. 'Yeah, I guess he is.'

'He's sixteen,' she said in a hollow, half-desperate voice. 'I heard him say he was just sixteen a few weeks back. Isn't that too young to die?'

Ned swallowed. His throat felt curiously full and hard.

'Yeah,' he said. 'It is.'

The dark felt close and solid around him even though he could not see it. He could hear it in the way the drumbeats travelled and feel it in the stillness of the air. It was as if a blanket had been laid down over the world.

'Those fires must be warm,' Julie said into the stillness after a while.

'Are there many of 'em?' Ned asked, imagining how the hot wellings of light must look against the velvet darkness.

'Too many.' Julie said. 'I sure wish there was brush about here to burn.'

'There ain't nothing, huh?' Ned asked.

'Nothing worth burning,' she said.

There was a long pause of the kind Ned was used to, when someone was looking at him and knowing he could not see them looking. He knew she was working up the courage to ask him about his eyes.

'I can't see nothing,' he said, forestalling her question. 'Least, nothing worth mentioning.'

'How long have you been blind?' she asked, then said quickly, 'You mind me asking that?'

He shook his head. 'Been close on four years now. I was going on twenty-one when I lost my sight.'

'Oh. I'm sorry,' she said, her voice thick with awkwardness.

'Ain't nothing can be done about it,' Ned said, moving his foot in the dust. 'Johnny – that is, my brother Johnny – thinks there's doctors in San Francisco could help me, but I don't put no store in that. I don't want to go there…'

'Supposed to be all sorts of good things in San Francisco,' Julie said.

'I don't want to find out about them,' Ned said stubbornly.

'No,' she said after a long moment of silence. 'I don't think I do either.'

She stood up suddenly and walked away. Ned sat for a while, listening to her skirts swinging as she walked. She was as restless as the rest of them. She was full of something that she didn't want to let loose, something that she needed to let loose. Ned had a sudden thought that he would not be surprised if _she_ leapt onto a horse and rode out to certain death too.

Someone came over with slow, easy steps. It was Ben. Ned could pick out the sounds of him by now.

'Ben?' he called out quietly.

'Yeah,' Ben said from beside the wheel.

Ned stood up, running his hands over the cold iron tyre of the coach wheel to the top. His legs were stiff as he straightened them. He had been sitting down for too long.

'Are you cold, Ned?' Ben asked him.

Ned nodded, drawing his coat more tightly across his chest. He had been cold for so long that it had started to feel like a natural state.

'Well, there's a couple more hours til daylight,' Ben told him in a quiet, reflective voice.

Ned leaned back against the solid panels of the coach. He touched his hand back to the cold of the iron tyre, moving his fingers over the metal nervously. He had the woman's voice in his mind and the sound of her skirts brushing against themselves as she moved.

'Ben?' he asked. 'Is she pretty?'

'I reckon you'd say that,' Ben said slowly, shifting his gun in his arms.

'She's nice,' Ned said quietly, with a carefully restrained eagerness. 'How old is she?'

'Bout the same age you are,' Ben told him in a level voice. He sounded as if he were concentrating on something deep inside or far away.

'Found out she ain't married.'

'No, I reckon not.'

Ned wondered about the darkness in his voice, but abruptly the coach driver called out, 'Somebody's coming!'

The men set off running. Ned started forward but didn't move away from the coach wheel. He could hear a horse walking at a slow pace, but it sounded like a riderless horse. It had the half-aimless tread of a horse that was being led with a load rather than ridden by a man.

'Go get him,' the coach driver said, and someone ran to meet that horse.

Ned leaned forward, listening, one hand on the coach wheel.

'We'd better take it behind the ledge,' the driver said in a sober voice.

Ned leaned back again, an odd sick feeling settling in his core. It was the boy. It must be. He had known that he would be killed, but he hadn't expected him to be sent back, slung across the horse like a warning.

There was a sudden shriek and a whoop from far away, and chanting started up, loud and strong. Perhaps the Indians had been watching and waiting for that horse to come back to the others, to deliver their message. The chanting was in a wide arc somewhere behind the coach. It sounded like the hills were full of Indians just waiting for the moment to attack again. Ned turned his head, listening, fear and sick anticipation sparking through his body.

'Well, Mr Only Survivor,' he heard Johnny say to Ben somewhere in front of the coach. 'I guess you won't have that distinction by the time the sun's high.'

'No, I reckon everything's gonna be taken care of for us,' Ben replied flatly.

One of them walked back to the coach. Julie was there – Ned could hear her standing by the side of the coach, small noises like suppressed sobs coming from her.

'Pretty music, huh?' Johnny asked. 'Can I have the next dance?'

Ned tensed. Julie's almost inaudible sobs had turned into something louder and more real. Ned moved to Johnny and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him away from the woman.

'Let her alone, will you, Johnny?' he growled.

Johnny sighed and began to move away. Ned moved his hand from Johnny's coat with a last shake, and stepped forward towards Julie. His hand touched the softness of her shawl first, feeling a loose-knit wool that covered her shoulders. He moved his hand cautiously towards where he thought hers might be, and felt her fingers slip into his. Her hand almost disappeared under his.

'What is it, Miss Julie?' he asked.

'I'm all right,' she said shakily, taking deep gasps of air to calm herself.

Ned patted her hand softly and then gripped it tight. He wanted to do more than that. He wanted to be prowling about the coach with a gun – but this was all he could do.

He could feel the warmth between the lengths of their bodies, standing this close. Her hands were cold but her breath was warm when it brushed his face and he could smell the clean scent of her hair very near to him. Her heartbeat pulsed through her fingertips where they were pressed against his hands. There was a strength in her hands. She wasn't gripping on to him, but he could feel her strength.

A great fear overcame him, not of the Indians in the hills or the guns that they carried, but of dying as he was about to without ever once saying exactly what he wanted to to a woman like this.

'Miss Julie,' he said, keeping the fear closed inside.

'Yeah?' she asked. She was so scared her voice sounded choked and sick. The singing of the Indians was rising and falling, filling the air all around them and pressing out everything else.

'There's something I've been wanting to ask you,' he said, trying to tune out that singing and hear only her breathing.

'Sure,' she said.

'You being a girl, maybe you could tell me,' he continued. He was prevaricating, but what he was getting to scared him more than the Indians.

'W-what is it?'

'Well – well, if a girl'd get to know me, and if she – ' He faltered, his breath catching, trying to work out the right words and to get them to come to his tongue. 'Well – do you think it's possible that a pretty young girl could ever consider a man like me?' he asked, finally managing to put words to the thought.

'Well, if she loved him, sure,' she said without hesitation, her face turned up towards his.

'Could she love a fella with my kind of handicap?'

'Why not?' she said softly.

He swallowed. His heart was racing beneath his ribs. The Indians were just a background noise behind the rushing in his ears.

'The thing that scares a fella like me is maybe he ain't wanted,' he said quickly.

'Yeah,' she said. 'That scares a lot of people.'

'And – being scared that way – well – you figure m-maybe it's better never to find out,' he carried on in a rush. 'You sorta feel maybe it's better to go on being scared, instead of finding out for sure that you're not wanted.'

A whooping scream rose above the chanting and Julie threw herself forward at his chest, burying her face against him. She did not allow herself to cry out loud, but he could feel the shaking of noiseless sobs inside her. This cold dawn was going to be their last. The vital, red, blood-filled reality of him and of her against him was going to be ended and left in something still and cold and drained on the dirt.

He closed his mind again to the Indian singing and concentrated on the reality of this narrow space where they stood. Her hair was against his chin. He could smell the clean scent of it every time he breathed. He raised his hand to the back of her head and laid it on her hair, feeling the smoothness of its mass and the warmth of her scalp beneath it. He wondered what colour her hair was – but that didn't matter. Ben had said she was pretty, but that didn't matter either. The reality of _her_ and her head against his chest and the fluttering feel of her terrified heartbeat through every place he touched was beautiful enough in itself. He let his head sink down against hers, her hair against his cheek, and he stood there, waiting.


	13. Chapter 13

13.

There was a silence like the quiet before a thunderstorm breaks. The drums had stopped. The wild singing and whooping had stopped. The wind had dropped with dawn and there was no dust shushing across the ground. Ned could not even hear birds calling. They had been silenced or scared away by the men in the hills. Only the horses moved restlessly by the stagecoach. They had been standing tethered all night, but they would not be given the chance to run now.

Ned stood by the stage wheel, glad of the protective solidity of all that wooden coachwork behind his back. Everyone was separate and waiting, standing on the dirt. Ned could hear small noises as the men moved their rifles from hand to hand, impatient for something to happen. He turned his head, listening keenly, wondering where Julie had gone. She had pulled away from him after a while, bothered and embarrassed by the clinch, and they had been standing apart since.

He could not hear her moving about. He guessed she was sitting somewhere but he didn't try to find her. No one seemed to want to walk or speak, and Ned would not break in to that funereal stillness. He could feel the pall of it on himself. They were all waiting to die.

Ned had never been shot. He wondered how it would feel as a piece of lead travelling faster than sight tore through soft flesh and lodged inside. There would be pain before death, he was sure. He remembered the first time he had shot a jackrabbit – the way he had shot clumsily and missed the head and struck it through the belly instead. It had been dying slowly, its eyes misted with panic and pain, and he had stood and stared, indecisive. It had taken Johnny to push past him and smash its head with the butt of his gun.

'Never let it suffer like that, Ned,' he had said with a strange anger in his voice. 'It's dying for you. Don't make the dying harder than it has to be.'

He wondered what it had been like for Johnny during the war, seeing all that dying, seeing it happen slowly and with great pain, and to men, not to jackrabbits. Had he stepped in and put men out of their agony like he had that rabbit? He must have seen death again and again. It must have put a terrible fear of dying in him.

But Johnny had let Ben's brother die, and all those other men… Johnny, who would fight like a dog and shoot without hesitation, but would not let a jackrabbit linger in pain. He didn't know what to think of that.

'They've stopped serenading us,' the coach driver said from a few yards away.

'That's the noisiest hunk of silence I ever did hear,' Johnny replied, and Ned could hear the fear in his voice, disguised with flippancy.

Johnny's feet made a quiet sound on the dust as he walked and then crouched. Ned heard the rustle of Julie's skirts as she moved. She was sitting there, where Johnny had gone.

'Here,' Johnny said in a low voice, almost too quiet for Ned to hear. 'Take it.' And then louder, 'Take it! If anything happens to us, don't hesitate. It's for Ned and you.'

Ned turned his head, wondering.

'You saw what happened to _him_,' Johnny said.

He was talking about the boy who was lying dead somewhere nearby. He had that tone in his voice that people had when they spoke of dead people, as if they were afraid that speaking of the dead would invoke death itself.

There was a whoop from far out beyond the stage, and then a hundred other voices took up the call. It was starting. Horses' hooves pounded, thundering closer and closer, bringing that whooping closer like a rushing storm.

'We got visitors, and they ain't being polite,' Johnny shouted. 'Here they come!'

Ned dropped back to the dirt, kneeling behind the coach and waiting for someone to start feeding him empty guns. Julie was beside him again and she grabbed at his wrist, guiding his hand to the ammunition box.

'What'd Johnny give you?' he asked her urgently. 'He give you that money?'

'He gave me a six-gun,' she said. She sounded breathless with panic.

Ned relaxed for just a second. He had hated to think of Johnny pushing that dirty money on Julie. Then a rifle was slammed against his hands and he took it and started loading the cartridges again with urgent speed.

The Indians were circling them like wolves about a herd, the horses pounding past, dust clouding up into the air and filling Ned's lungs. He could hear bodies dropping again, horses squealing with fear and suddenly running aimless and loose. And then he heard a choking sound of fear and pain closer than that as someone fell near the coach.

'Julie, who was that?' he asked urgently, his hands stopping still. 'Who was shot?'

She was silent a moment, then said, 'Harris. The protection the driver hired. He's dead.'

'He die quick?' Ned asked, thinking again of that jackrabbit.

'Yeah,' she said, sounding sick. 'Yeah, he died real quick.'

Ned nodded. He licked dust from his dry lips and began loading the guns again. There was just Ben, Johnny and the stage driver shooting now, against the Lord knew how many Indians. It was only a matter of time before they were each picked off. He didn't know if the Indians would shoot a woman. He didn't know if they would shoot him if they saw him unarmed and incapable. In some way he hoped that they would. He didn't want to be left out here with Ben and Johnny dead.

'Can you shoot, Julie?' he asked. 'You ever shot with a rifle?'

'My pa wouldn't let me touch his rifle,' she said briskly, popping cartridges in with a rhythmic, metallic sound. 'But I guess I could try.'

'I could show you,' Ned began. 'I mayn't be able to aim, but I can show you how to shoot it.'

And then a bugle call sounded! It was clear and musical and rising above the jarring sounds of whooping and and shooting and horses running. Ned's head jerked around towards the noise. There were a deal more horses coming, and that bugle call sounding out loud amid the noise of their hooves. Somewhere amongst the circling Indians a voice called out in a high, yipping shriek, and the sound of the Indians changed. They were breaking from the circle. They were riding away!

The others were standing and moving, perhaps looking out to catch a first glimpse of the army troops that Ned could hear galloping in. Ned stayed crouched. There were still some shots being fired and he would not raise his head and risk his life now.

'Yippee!' the coach driver whooped in joy. 'Looks like I'm gonna get a drink of that real Eastern whiskey after all!'

Ned turned his head, listening. The Indians were riding out in a thunder of hooves. The shots were tailing off, and that bugle kept blowing. It was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Finally he got up, standing up tall on the dirt and turning about, listening to the horses moving away. A sense of relief fell down through him, making his arms and legs feel weak.

'Ben?' he called, taking a step. 'Ben, are they gone?'

'They're gone, Ned,' Ben said with a grin in his voice, stepping over to him and slapping him on the arm. 'Those troops are chasing them clear out of the canyon.'

Ned blew air out of his cheeks in a long breath, and then grinned himself. 'I didn't think we'd make it,' he said.

'Well, with you and the lady loading them guns so fast, we never had to stop shooting,' Ben said.

Ned smiled again. He knew it had been Ben's and Johnny's shooting that had kept them alive for so long, but he wasn't going to argue with Ben's praise. The world was beautiful, and he was alive in it.

'Well, Mr Only Survivor,' Johnny said, striding on over. 'Looks like you're a charm, don't it?'

'If you thought I was would you go away and leave Ned to me?' Ben asked.

A darkness seemed to fall over Ned. He had almost forgotten about Johnny's intention to take him off to San Francisco and make him live there. He had almost forgotten that Ben wanted to kill Johnny. He stood very still and listened, and Johnny said, 'There ain't nothing that's going to make me go away and leave Ned to you.'

Ben breathed a long breath and clapped his hand on Ned's arm again.

'Well, I'm going to check over those horses, be sure they didn't get no injuries during the shooting,' he said, his voice a little over-loud as if he were papering over the words between him and Johnny.

'Will you check Doggone for me?' Ned asked, turning his back on Johnny and stepping closer to Ben.

'Yeah, I'll check him first,' Ben promised.

Johnny was silent, and then he walked away from Ned. Ned heard him saying to the coach driver, 'Let's do something with those bodies. Try to give them a decent cover with those rocks over there.'

Ned moved back to the stage and leaned against the wheel. He felt hemmed in and useless again. There was no help he could give to Ben with the horses, or to Johnny and the driver with burying those bodies. And there was no way he could fight against Johnny and Johnny's intentions.

'Miss Julie?' he called out.

'Yeah,' she said, walking across to the coach.

'Are you all right, Miss Julie?' he asked her. 'You're awful quiet.'

'Yeah, Ned, I'm fine,' she said, coming a little closer and touching his sleeve lightly. Her voice was shaking with the remains of her fear. Then she said, 'I thought we were going to die. I didn't want to die. I – guess that makes me a coward.'

'No one wants to die,' Ned said with a smile.

'I know, but – '

Her voice broke up and he realised that she was trying to hold back tears. He reached out and put his hand to her shoulder, stroking his fingers over the thick wool knots of her shawl.

'Don't take on,' he said softly. 'Don't take on, Miss Julie.'

She gave a kind of laughing sob.

'We weren't never going to die,' Ned told her firmly. 'I been running for two days from men that want to kill me just for being Johnny Tallon's brother. I wasn't going to let the Indians kill me, and I wasn't going to let them kill you neither.'

She laughed again, a wet, gasping laugh that was very close to crying and very close to a joyful hysteria, and Ned smiled. He knew his words made no sense, but he felt the truth of them deep inside now they were safe and alive. He wouldn't have let himself die there on the dusty ground.

'Why would someone kill you for being Johnny Tallon's brother?' she asked him wonderingly, pushing the need to cry away in her curiosity at his words.

Ned sighed. He kept his voice low. He could hear Johnny and the coach driver moving rocks somewhere a hundred yards away and Ben talking quietly to the horses just behind the coach.

'Johnny's done a lot of wrong,' he said. 'He's killed folks. He's let other folks die on his account. He did wrong to the man that blinded me, and now they want to kill me.'

'Well, I guess he's trying real hard at making it right,' Julie said slowly. 'Taking you to San Francisco to see that doctor.'

Ned was quiet, thinking about how Johnny had ridden out into Navajo Canyon to find him despite the Indians being madder than a nest of hornets. But Johnny wasn't trying to make it right. He was trying to force Ned to go along with his plans, just as he had always done. Johnny had set on going to San Francisco and they would go there, no matter what Ned wanted. Johnny would always be the king of his castle.

Ned shook his head. 'He ain't doing it for me. He's past caring about anyone but himself.'

She stood silently for a minute, her breathing soft and steady. Her shoulder was still under his hand, moving only with each breath.

'I've seen a lot of men, Ned,' she said finally, as if she were admitting a great shame. 'Some of them pretend to care and they're thinking about how many bushels of wheat they should buy at the store tomorrow, or if their tobacco pouch is getting empty. Some of them look like they don't care, and inside they're as like to a stone as they are outside. Then some of them – just some – well, they talk rough and act rough, and they have a kind of hardness over their eyes, but they don't realise how their eyes look when they don't know you're watching. They're the kind that care so much it tears them up inside.'

'You think Johnny's one of those men?' Ned asked with a short laugh.

'I see him looking at you when the others aren't watching. He wants to make it right for you.'

Ned shook his head. 'Whether I want him to or not,' he said harshly.

'Yeah,' she said after a pause. 'Whether you want him to or not. He's the kind that gets his way. If he didn't get his way it'd eat at him and eat at him until he went crazy.'

'Sometimes I think I hate him,' Ned said darkly, rubbing the heel of his boot into the ground. 'He can't let me be. I want him to leave me alone.'

There was the sound Johnny and the coach driver walking back towards them, and Julie stepped away from him as if she had been caught breaking the law.

'Well, we got 'em covered up, anyway,' Johnny said as he approached. 'It's as decent as we can get them.'

Ned heard horses cantering back towards them then, and his head snapped up. There were horseshoes ringing on the ground. They were the army horses, not Indian ponies. Ben came back from checking on their own horses then, and touched Ned's arm.

'Doggone's fine,' he said. 'There's a graze on one of the stage horses, but it's nothing.'

Ned nodded. 'Thanks, Ben,' he murmured.

He was listening out as the army horses approached, the tightness of anticipation coming over him again. They were moving closer to the time when he would either have to go with Johnny, or fight him.

'It's safe for you to go on now,' a voice rang out from atop one of those horses as it reached them.

'Is this really the big round up of the Indians?' the coach driver asked as if he could barely believe the truth of it.

'Started yesterday, as soon as our reinforcements arrived,' the soldier said. 'We're closing in through every tributary in the canyon, hemming 'em in. They'll soon realise it's hopeless.'

Ned stood still, leaning against the coach wheel with his hands interlaced in front of him, his mouth pressed closed. He knew about hopeless. Even after everything he felt pity for the Indians in every living part of his body. This was their home, and they were being rounded up and sent away to somewhere they didn't want to go.

A strange silence fell. Ben came and stood close to him, and then Johnny strode over. They were still for a moment, and then Johnny said brusquely, 'All right, Ned, we're on our way to San Francisco, where there's doctors that'll tell you whether you can get back your sight.'

'Rather than take that money I'll stay the way I am,' Ned said flatly.

'You're just saying that cause you want to get back at me,' Johnny dismissed him.

Anger flared in Ned. This wasn't a childish argument and it maddened him that Johnny could treat it like that. He was a grown man, blind or not, and he didn't have to let Johnny tell him what to do.

'I'm telling you now, Johnny,' he said, standing up straight. 'Go away. I don't want no part of you.'

'If you do, I'm willing to forget everything,' Ben put it quickly. 'Me and Ned'll be partners.'

'If _I_ did, the Parkers never would,' Johnny reminded him.

'Well, we'll have the protection of the law there,' Ben said confidently.

'Ain't you got sense enough to understand that that's hardly enough guarantee of safety for someone like me?' Johnny snapped. 'It's my fault Ned lost his sight and I'm gonna see to it he has no worries for the rest of his life.'

'Yes or no?' Ben persisted.

'I can't leave Ned with a mush-head like you,' Johnny said, almost regretfully. 'No.'

There was the whip of something moving through the air. Instinctively Ned flinched away. He heard the sick sound of something solid hitting flesh and bone, and Ben dropped.

'Johnny, what'd you do to him?' Ned asked urgently, starting forward. Ben was silent. He wasn't moving.

'What's the idea?' the coach driver asked in surprise.

'I'm Johnny Tallon,' Johnny said in a flat, dangerous voice. 'You want to make something of it?'

'Uh uh,' he said quickly, backing off.

Ned heard the click of Johnny holstering his gun and he started forward, grabbing out towards the noise of him.

'Where is he, Johnny?'

He tripped and fell face down on the dirt with a thud that drove the air out of his lungs. Still Ben was quiet, and he didn't know where he had fallen.

'Ben?' he called, disoriented, feeling over the ground. 'Ben? Ben?'

He clambered up, reaching out for Johnny now. Someone grabbed at his arm and he pushed them away roughly. It was Julie. He had felt her shawl and the smoothness of her arm against his hand. But he needed her to be out of the way. He needed to get to Johnny.

'What did you do, Johnny?' he snapped. 'What did you do to Ben? I'll kill you!'

'Just fixed it so he wouldn't get killed,' Johnny said in a disinterested tone, catching at Ned's arm and trying to make him walk. 'Come on.'

Ned stood firm, jerking his arm back. 'I won't leave here without Ben.'

Johnny grabbed his arm with both hands this time and yanked at it. 'Come on, will – '

Ned snatched himself free and stepped backwards, raising his fists to fight. Fury was pounding through every inch of him. He could feel his pulse in his hands and hear it in his ears. He wanted to grab Johnny and beat his head against something.

'What's the matter with you?' Johnny said, walking after him. 'Will you come – ?'

Ned struck out. His fist hit the side of Johnny's face with a crack. Johnny grunted and took a step back, and then he launched himself at Ned, throwing his arms around him and toppling him to the ground.

'Ben?' Ned shouted, the weight of Johnny holding him down as he tried to get free. 'Ben? Where are you, Ben? Answer me!'

Johnny was astride him, pinning him down, pushing Ned's arms down under his own. He heard Julie crying out, 'Why don't you leave him alone, you – ?' but she was cut off as Johnny flung her away with a sweep of his arm. His hands clenched on Ned's collar, pressing him hard into the ground, shaking him relentlessly.

'You get in that coach and stay put or I'll kill him,' Johnny said with cold fury.

Ned froze. He could hear Johnny panting above him, could smell the breath that came in billows over his face. Johnny's knuckles were tucked around the fabric of his coat, pressing into his collarbones, holding him tight against the earth. The fight fell out of him, and Johnny felt it. His hands relaxed. Ned breathed out, and began to sit up. Johnny took hold of his forearm and pulled him up. Ned stood there, breathing hard, pulling his belt back straight, and Johnny began to swat the dust off his coat like a fussing mother.

Ned straightened his hat, and then Johnny grabbed at his arm again and yanked him forward, pulling him in jerks towards the stagecoach. He opened the door, and Ned climbed slowly inside.

There was a moment of quiet and then the door opened again and Julie climbed in, her skirts rustling against the coachwork. She sat down beside him, but did not speak. Ned sat very still, silent. If he had been alone he might have cried – if Tallons cried. Instead he sat up straight, facing straight ahead, drawing in slow, deep breaths. Johnny had him held to ransom. He had to sit in that coach and stay quiet until Johnny was safely away from Ben. It was the only thing he could do to keep Ben alive.


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Ned sat inside the coach, feeling like he was shaking somewhere inside. His hands were perfectly steady but his core seemed to be one big vibration of tight anger and hatred. Outside the wind was blowing and something on the outside of the stage was flapping against the woodwork. The horses were quiet and still. It sounded like a regular winter day, and he was just sitting in a coach waiting for the journey to start. But it was wrong. It was all wrong.

He listened to Johnny with the attention of a guard dog.

'Tie all the horses to the coach except one,' Johnny called from outside.

The coach driver asked in a puzzled tone, 'Except one?' and Ned leaned forward and listened harder.

'Yeah,' Johnny said. 'I'm leaving you with him. Two of you on one horse won't get to the Fort so fast. Give me time to complete my business and get out before he shows up.'

That was one good thing at least. Johnny wasn't leaving Ben out here alone with no horse and no help. He never would have made it out of the canyon without food and without a horse to ride on. Ned still felt sick and helpless at the idea of leaving him but he felt a little better that there would be someone here to watch him.

'Well, what about the stage?' the driver asked.

'I'll take it,' Johnny said flatly.

'But, wait a minute, I – '

'It'll be safe with me,' Johnny said with rising impatience and anger. 'I won't make off with it. Now _do as I tell you!_'

Ned knew that tone. It sent chills through him. It reminded him of his pa when his patience had been worn too thin and he was ready to tan Ned's or Johnny's hide for being impertinent once too often. If Johnny didn't get his way someone was going to get hurt.

He listened as two sets of feet moved away from the coach door. They were going to get the horses ready. A hard and steady fury settled through Ned's mind, taking over his thoughts. He would be calm and he would be quiet for as long as he needed to be, but he would not let Johnny take him to San Francisco.

'Julie, you got that gun?' he asked in a dark, level voice.

'Yeah,' she said apprehensively.

'Give it to me,' Ned said.

'What are you going to do with it?' she asked him, moving away a little on the narrow seat.

'Give it to me, will you?' he said with flat desperation. 'Just give it to me.'

He put his hand out, expecting her to obey. If she didn't he would just have to take it from her. He was breathing hard, each breath steadying him but not swaying his resolve. He would not be pushed around by Johnny any more. He couldn't persuade him with words and he couldn't beat him in a straight fight, but Johnny would not expect the gun from him.

He felt Julie moving, heard the soft noise of her shawl as she reached underneath. Slowly she put the gun in his hand and he closed his fingers around it. The metal was blood warm from being held against her body.

He tucked it inside his coat and closed the coat tightly over it. It sat against his chest, and felt like a layer of protection over his heart.

The coach rocked as Johnny climbed up onto the driver's seat. Ned heard him yelling at the horses, geeing them up. He didn't whip them – just shook the reins and hollered until they began to ran. The coach lumbered behind, lurching over the rough ground. Behind that Ned could hear the other horses running, tethered to the rear boot.

He ran a hand over the door, briefly thinking of opening it and leaping out. That thought only lasted a second. It would be like committing suicide to jump from a speeding stage into the wild, empty canyon, especially with those horses behind that could trample him as they passed.

'Ned,' Julie said in a low voice, seeing his hand on the catch.

'I ain't jumping out,' he said, taking his hand from the door and pressing it back against the gun under his coat.

'You sure looked like you were going to.'

'Well, I ain't,' he repeated.

'What are you going to do with that gun?' she asked him again.

Ned leaned back against the seat, feeling the solidity of the gun under his hand. 'I don't know' he said honestly. 'But I ain't going to San Francisco.'

He closed his eyes. The noise of the coach pushed away every other small, natural noise. The jiggling and vibration ran up through his bones and his skull and dust drifted in through the window, kicked up by the horses' running feet. Exhaustion came over him. He had not eaten in almost a full day, and even then it had only been the remnants of Ben's hoecakes. The last proper meal he had eaten was some thick slices of bread after he and Ben had brought back the Christmas tree.

He tilted his hat forward and rested his head on the back panel of the coach. He couldn't do anything until they reached Fort Defiance, anyway. Maybe there he could find someone who would side with him against Johnny – or maybe the Parker gang would be there, he remembered with grim humour. Maybe they would do for Johnny and him together.

The coach kept rocking. His eyes became hot and heavy. He was tired enough to sleep standing up, and this seat was softer than the rocks and hard ground that had been chairs and bed for him recently. He kept his hand tucked under his coat, resting on the gun, and slowly his thoughts began to dissolve away.

He woke with a panicked start, feeling a hand slipping under his, under his coat. He gripped at the hand reflexively and twisted it away, and then he heard Julie half sob in pain.

'What were you doing?' he growled at her, anger sparking up again and pushing away sleepiness. 'Were you trying to take that gun?'

'I'm afraid for you, Ned,' she said in a small voice. 'I'm afraid for what you'll do with it.'

He let go of her hand and pushed the gun back securely under the coat.

'I coulda hurt you,' he said quietly. 'I thought it was Johnny. Don't do that again, Miss Julie. I need to trust you.'

'I won't touch it again,' she promised.

Ned half smiled, and reached out to her. She touched her hand to his and he stroked his fingers across the back of hers lightly. Her hand was cold and felt very small under his.

'What were you doing, coming from Willerton to Fort Defiance at a time like this?' he asked her. 'Why'd them folks buy you a ticket and make you leave town?'

'You don't know me, Ned,' she said after a pause. He could hear that her face was turned away. She was looking out of the window instead of at him.

'I don't know all about you, but I know _you_, Miss Julie,' he said. 'You've got a fine soul. What were they doing running you out of town?'

'Ned, I can't,' she said brokenly. Then she said as if she were excusing something that she couldn't tell him about, 'My ma and pa died, Ned. They died when I was seventeen years old. I couldn't live out on the ranch on my own. I had to come into town and make a living.'

'Everyone has to make a living,' Ned nodded. 'There ain't no sin in that.'

'Yeah,' she said slowly. She was looking out of the window again. 'I think this is it, Ned,' she said. 'I can see the stockade.'

Ned's hand tightened on the gun, and then very slowly he let go. He drew his hand out empty from under the coat and laid it on his lap. The horses trotted on, the sound of their footfalls changing as they entered the hard-packed town street. The noises began to echo from flat-faced buildings. He heard Johnny shouting, 'Whoa,' and the stage rolled to a halt. As Johnny jumped down someone called out a question about the driver and the others.

'Indians got 'em,' Johnny said quickly, coming round to the door. 'The driver's just hurt. The army boys are taking care of him.'

Ned ducked his head and began to get out of the stage under his own steam. He would not have Johnny haul him out like a child in front of all the folks in town. Johnny took hold of his arm and helped him down onto the board sidewalk and he heard Julie jump down beside him.

'How soon can this stage start for San Francisco?' Johnny asked, leading Ned across the boards.

'Well, soon as we get fresh horses and a driver,' the man replied, and Ned recognised the voice of Mr Abbott who ran the stage office. 'About an hour.'

Ned's shoulder knocked into a post and Johnny jerked him sideways. They must be right outside the stage office. He remembered those wooden posts from when he could see, supporting a veranda – but he had never been inside the office before. Johnny took him through the door and let go of his arm. He stood still, smelling the scent of dust and old wood and the hot scent of a stove somewhere. It was a hollow, empty room with nothing but hard things in it to send back echoes. Julie touched his arm and murmured to him, 'Sit down, Ned. There's a bench right behind you.'

Ned felt out behind him and sat down on the slatted wooden bench. Julie sat beside him, quiet and tense. He knew she was waiting to see what he intended with the gun, but he didn't know himself yet.

Johnny walked across the room, his boots tapping on the hard floor.

'Ain't you Johnny Tallon?' Mr Abbott asked in sudden surprise.

'Yeah,' Johnny said.

'But I thought you were – '

'I know. You heard I was dead,' Johnny said impatiently. 'And it _was_ the Indians that got your boys.'

'Well, no offence…'

'Thinking of running and telling Dave Parker I'm here?' Johnny asked acerbically.

'What I know of Parker he's capable of finding out himself,' Mr Abbott said with dry humour.

'I'll let him know,' Johnny said. Then he said in a quick, low voice, 'Two tickets for San Francisco.'

'Yes, _sir_,' Abbott said quickly.

Ned stood up quickly, determined anger burning like a flame inside him

'For the last time, Johnny, go away and leave me be,' he snapped, his hands clenched at his sides, his arms filled with the urge to strike.

Johnny turned to him. 'Are you out of your mind?' He turned back to the counter and continued easily. 'Like I said, two tickets.'

'Yes, sir,' Abbott said again.

In the end there was no premeditation in Ned. His body moved before his mind. He reached into his coat and snatched out the gun. Julie's hand curved over his wrist but she didn't try to hold him back. He stepped forward, making for Johnny's voice. If he could come right up to him with the gun he could be sure of not harming anyone else.

Then there was a panicked movement and Johnny's hand closed around his wrist so tight it felt like his bones were breaking. Johnny wrestled with him, pushing him back against the bench until he was sitting again, pressed against the wall with Johnny's hand on his chest. Johnny squeezed on his wrist until pain shot up his arm, and the gun fell to the floor. Ned sank back, beaten.

Slowly the pressure of Johnny's hands relaxed, and he stepped away. There was a strange, loaded silence that seemed to fill the room and drive away any lingering normality. Ned felt as if he were going to be sick in that sudden, horrific silence.

'Were you going to gun me down?' Johnny asked eventually. His voice was full of something like sorrow.

Ned felt fractured inside. He had come so close to pulling the trigger, but he couldn't do it, any more than he had been able to club that jackrabbit to death. He couldn't have killed _Johnny_, Johnny who had always been there between him and the world, before he had gone away to war.

He didn't stand up again. He shook his head slowly. He could feel his face pinching up as emotion welled through him.

'Would you really kill me, Ned?' Johnny asked him. He sounded like he had been betrayed by his dearest friend.

'I don't know,' Ned said brokenly, his voice shaking. 'Don't make me go with you, Johnny.'

'You wanna stay with Ben that bad, huh?' Johnny said quietly.

Ned nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak any more without crying. He needed to do something to control that weakness inside him. Johnny was silent too. He walked across the room, slowly, with measured steps. Then he turned round and walked back again.

Finally he turned back to Ned and said, 'If I gave you some money would – ' He hesitated as if he were about to voice something that was anathema to him, and then continued, 'Would you and Ben go someplace else and settle?'

'We don't want your money,' Ned said tiredly. He had been over and over this with Johnny. He didn't have the strength to continue for much longer.

'But you can't stay in this part of the country any more on account of me, and how can you start someplace else without any money?' Johnny asked him desperately.

'We don't want yours!' Ned almost shouted, lurching forward at him on the bench.

'All right, all right!' Johnny snapped back angrily, and then half-whispered, 'All right.'

He sounded beaten too. Ned could hear him breathing slow and hard, his feet moving on the floor as if he didn't know which way to turn.

'Ned,' he said finally. 'You and Ben can be partners.'

Ned turned towards him, frowning. 'Y-you mean that, Johnny?' he asked hesitantly. He couldn't believe it after all that had happened, but he wanted to believe it, desperately.

Johnny was silent again, then he said, 'Yeah.' He took off his coat and flung it aside. 'Stay here,' he said, striding to the door. 'I'm gonna go make a sale – and heaven help the man that don't want to buy.'

He opened the door and left, slamming it behind him so that the walls rattled. Ned sat frozen on the bench, wondering and afraid. Dave Parker was somewhere out in that town. All of a sudden he didn't want Johnny to die, no matter what he had done.


	15. Chapter 15

15.

The stage office was quiet and still. Ned didn't know where Mr Abbott had gone but he didn't hear him around the office any more. He guessed he had slipped out as soon as he realised that there was trouble building and he was not going to sell any tickets to San Francisco that day.

He heard Julie walking about quietly, opening the door of the stove and feeding more fuel into it, and blowing lightly on the flames to encourage them into life. She walked to the street door and opened it briefly. The street outside seemed quiet too. Then she came back to the bench and sat beside Ned.

'You see where he went?' Ned asked her.

'No, I can't see him,' she said quietly. 'I guess we'll just have to wait and find out.'

'I guess so,' Ned nodded. But then he smiled. 'It's going to be all right, Julie. It's all going to be just fine.'

'Yeah, it is,' she said with warmth in her voice. 'You and Ben can ranch together, and – did you say Ben has a wife?'

'Yeah,' Ned grinned. 'She'll be coming here real soon.'

'I'm glad you'll have someone to see to you,' Julie said. 'To cook and keep the house and all.'

Ned nodded slowly. He felt a rising of nervousness in him at what he wanted to say, at what he _had_ to say before the chance slipped by. He opened and closed his hands, and then felt his hat brim, making sure his hat was straight on his head.

'Miss Julie?' he asked eventually.

'Yeah?'

'Would you consider maybe – not going to San Francisco?' he asked.

He waited, feeling as if he could not breathe, feeling as if a few seconds had become hours long.

'Oh, Ned,' she said sadly. 'You – you don't know where I come from, what I am...'

She was sitting just inches from him, the warmth of her body touching his like an aura, her breathing just audible and coming in short, unsteady breaths. He could smell the scent of her clothes and her hair. He had spent a night with her in that wide, open canyon with the Indians drumming and singing and waiting to kill them and he had spoken to her and comforted her and softened her fear while she had softened his own. He had seen how she could set aside her fear and work ceaselessly at reloading those guns and reach out a hand to help him as soon as he needed it, with never a word of complaint and never giving up hope. She was steady and patient and trusting, and he felt like together they leant on each other and made an arch that would never fall.

'There may be a lot of things I don't know, but I know what you are,' Ned said in a low, sure voice.

'No, you don't,' she said, standing up and moving away in her distress. 'Look, Ned, I – I've worked in dance halls, in saloons.'

Ned remembered what Julie had said in the stage. Her ma and pa had died when she was seventeen. She had to come to town to live. And she was ashamed. She had been too ashamed to tell him all this time. He thought of her there in dance halls, talking and dancing with men for money, being beautiful, being flattering, being anything she could be to make enough money to eat. It did not make him despise her. It made his heart ache for her.

'You were scared to find out like me,' he said quickly. 'We're two of a kind, Julie.'

She sat down beside him, closer than she was before. Her hands slipped about his arm, firm and needful, and he wanted to turn and take her in his arms and soothe away every doubt she had in her mind. But she said sadly, 'No, Ned. It wouldn't be fair…'

'It ain't fair for nobody to live without being wanted,' he told her with a ripple of desperation in his voice. He was so close to this, so close to someone wanting _him_ instead of seeing him as the useless spare part that served no purpose. He could make a life with Julie. He was happy to just sit with her in silence, and when she did speak her thoughts chimed in with his. She was strong and soft-voiced and she understood ranch-living and doing whatever it took to keep going.

She was sitting so close, and so quiet. Her face was just inches away from his. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. The silence draped around them. And then he heard boots storming along the wooden sidewalk outside and the door banged open.

'Johnny?' he asked.

'It's me, Ned!' And Ben walked into the room, bringing with him the scent of horses and the dust of riding. 'Where is he?'

Ned jumped to his feet, gladness filling his heart as if the sun had come out inside him.

'Ben! Ben, you're all right!'

'Yeah,' Ben said briefly. 'Where is he?'

'I don't know, but it's going to be all right!' Ned said in a rush. 'He - he's going away, Ben.'

'Did he say that?'

'Yeah,' Ned said, unable to restrain a grin that made his cheeks ache. Everything was going to be just fine. 'And he said you and me could be partners.'

'Yeah, I heard him say it,' Julie said, her hands closing about Ned's arm.

'And your wife'll be here soon, Ben,' Ned hurried on. 'Then we can get started.'

The door banged open again just long enough to admit someone running, slamming closed again almost as soon as he had entered the room. And then the man slowed, and Ned heard Johnny say with slow surprise, 'Mr Only Survivor…'

'Is it true what Ned says about your going away?' Ben asked suspiciously.

'Yeah,' Johnny said, and he sounded content in that one word.

The sound of horses running clattered down the street and Ned jerked his head towards the door. It sounded like a whole gang of men, pulling their horses up outside the stage office and jumping to the ground.

'Whoever's in there,' a voice shouted from outside. 'I want Johnny and Ned Tallon, and anybody else has got two minutes to get out.'

It was Dave Parker. Ned was too familiar with that voice now, even filtered through the walls of the stage office. It all seemed to be beginning again, like he was standing at home behind the door with the pine smell of the Christmas tree in the air and only Ben and Uncle Charlie between him and Dave Parker and his gun. Surely he hadn't been through all that he had just to be gunned down by Dave Parker in Fort Defiance?

'All right, Julie,' Johnny said tersely. 'Get out.'

Julie didn't move. She stood by Ned, her breathing steady and her feet still on the floor.

'If you don't mind I'd just as soon stay.'

'Julie, ain't no reason for you – ' Ned began.

'I got a reason,' she cut across him, her voice flat and hard.

'What you just said's enough,' Ned said, the smallest hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. Suddenly he felt a deal less alone.

Julie walked around him, paper rustling in her hand. 'Well, reckon I won't need this ticket the committee gave me for San Francisco,' she said, putting her hands around his arm and holding it tight. 'I'd rather live for just a few minutes, being wanted.'

Ned put his hand over hers, feeling the strength and solidity of her slim fingers as they curved about his arm. It felt right. He felt like he had been walking as half a person for all this time, and now he was complete.

'And how about you, Mr Only Survivor?' Johnny asked. There was something in his voice that Ned couldn't quite pin down. He sounded resigned, scared, but almost happy.

'I ain't running out on a partner,' Ben said firmly.

There was silence. And then Johnny went to the door and leaned up close to it. The handle rattled and Ned tensed, but Johnny didn't open it.

'This is Johnny Tallon, Dave,' he called. 'I'll make a deal with you. Let Ned go and I'll give myself up.'

There was no reply from outside. Ned stood still, listening, his heart beginning to race.

'Think of all the fun you'll have stringing me up,' Johnny called.

The breath caught in Ned's chest. For a moment he was glad he couldn't see. He didn't want to be forced to see that.

'I ain't making no bargains,' Parker shouted from outside. 'I'll see you both dead.'

Johnny moved away from the door in silence. Ned clenched his hand tightly, wishing he had that gun still. There seemed to be no way out from here.

'Well, Mr Only Survivor,' Johnny said.

'The name's Shelby,' Ben began, 'And I'm getting tired – '

'Don't be a pest about petty details,' Johnny cut across him. He took something out of his pocket that rustled like paper. 'Now, look. Here's two and a half thousand, legitimate. Bill of sale and receipts signed and all.'

'What are you talking about?' Ben asked, bewildered.

'Well, somebody's gotta see that a couple of mushheads like you have some money,' Johnny said with the verve back in his voice. 'You wouldn't take mine cause it was rotten. Well, Parker drove us off the ranch so I got payment. Here.'

Ned stood, stunned. Johnny had sold the ranch to Dave Parker? He thought of little low house and the towering cliffs that surrounded it, that he had had only seen in imagination for four years. He thought of the contours of the ground under his feet all about the house and how he could walk almost anywhere within fifty feet of the place and still know exactly where he was. Then he thought of Uncle Charlie dead and a grave somewhere near the house, and how everything was changed. Ben held the money for a new life in his hand, and the choice of where that would be was Ned's and not Johnny's. He loved where he lived, but the thought of shaking off everything that tarnished his life and finding somewhere new to start again sent excitement shivering through him.

Johnny came back across the room. He took something from Julie and tore it up. Ned heard the scatter of small pieces of paper on the floor. He had torn up her stage ticket.

'Take care of him,' Johnny said quietly and earnestly.

'All right,' Julie said, almost soundlessly.

Johnny moved towards the door.

'Johnny,' Ned said quickly.

'Yep,' Johnny said tersely, all emotion pushed deliberately from his voice.

'It's true Mr Lincoln shook your hand, isn't it?' Ned asked.

Johnny was silent. Then he said in a warm, smiling voice, 'Yeah, it's true, Ned.'

Ned nodded, smiling in return. There was something hard in his throat behind the smile, something that felt very close to tears, very close to making him lurch after Johnny and grab his arm and make him stay here, safe in this room. He heard Johnny swallow hard, even with the space between them.

'Mr Shelby,' Johnny said, putting emphasis on his proper use of Ben's name. 'Would you get to the door and when I say open it, open it fast?'

Ben walked over to the door and stood there. Ned could feel it building. It was all happening. There was no way of turning anything back. Johnny was going to walk out of that room and die.

'Johnny!' he called suddenly, desperately. He heard his brother turn. 'Johnny,' he said in a whisper. His mouth worked then, but no sound came out. There were so many things he had to say that he couldn't think of a single one to utter.

'You made your choice, Ned,' Johnny said quietly and kindly. 'Don't apologise for it. I never did for mine.'

'You've got fifteen seconds, whoever wants to come out,' Dave Parker called from outside.

Ned stood still, his hand clenched tight over Julie's. If he was hurting her, she didn't say. There was nothing he could do. There was no way he could stop Johnny from going out there, no way he could shield him from the Parker gang. He wasn't even sure that he wouldn't follow Johnny where he was going in just a few minutes. He didn't know how many men were out there, but there were plenty enough to shoot Ben and take Ned and string him up.

'Open it,' Johnny said in a quick, urgent voice.

The sounds overlaid one another – the door opening, Johnny's guns sliding slick from their holsters, and then bullets exploding into the air from just outside. That was Johnny shooting, and Ned heard the reports of other pistols from further away, and the thud of bullets into the walls that sheltered him. The walls felt very thin, but he did not move. He stood still, listening. Horses whinnied, their hooves thudding back to the ground after panicked movements. The shots grew more sporadic. More than one body had fallen to the ground. Whether Johnny was going down or not, he had taken plenty of other men before him.

Ned heard horses moving away, then shots again from just outside the door. That was Johnny still, he was sure. And then someone fell very close to the building, knocking into the door and then the wall. It was almost entirely quiet outside, and Ned listened with all his focus. There were boots on the sidewalk again, someone falling again. Ned closed his eyes, his heart swelling into his throat. In his head he could see Johnny, bleeding, struggling to stand, falling again. Ned's hand was about Julie's wrist, holding it tight. He could feel her pulse under his fingers, beating almost as fast as his. If it hadn't been for her standing next to him he would have ran to the door.

There was one more shot from the sidewalk outside. One more shot from Johnny, he was certain. It was close, and it sounded like Johnny's gun. And then the silence stretched out almost unbearably. Ned heard small movements, someone moving with great difficulty over a tiny space. And then a single shot, from somewhere out in the street.

This time the silence seemed final. Ben seemed to think so too. He crept towards the door, and Julie pushed Ned backwards towards the far wall. Ben opened the door and stepped out. Ned counted six shots and he couldn't tell where from. He stood silent, his fingers flexing, Julie's hand over his. Footsteps tracked back towards the door, and the door opened and closed. And then Ben said, 'Well, I guess Parker won't bother us any more.'

Ned had not realised he was holding his breath, but it all came out at once in a long sigh. Ben was alive… Thank God, Ben was alive…

Julie squeezed his hand. He could feel the joy in her, but his own joy and relief was cut through with grief.

'Come on out, Ned,' Ben said.

Julie led him towards the door, holding both of his hands still in hers.

'It's safe, Ned,' Ben urged him as he hesitated on the threshold. 'Come on outside.'

Ned stepped onto the board sidewalk, letting go of Julie's hands. Outside the smell of gunpowder and smoke was settling through the air. There was fresh horse dung too, and dust, and all the usual scents of town behind that smell of shooting – but there was an unnatural silence that made the town feel as if it were not really there.

'What about Johnny?' Ned asked quietly.

'Dave Parker got him,' Ben said economically. 'I got Dave Parker.'

Ned closed his eyes. He wanted to reach out and hold onto something, but he stood still. He felt as if there were miles of space between him and everything else in the world.

'He went down fighting,' Ned said, more a statement than a question. He had heard the evidence of those shots.

'He sure did,' Ben said with admiration in his voice. 'He must've killed six men before Parker got him.'

Ned smiled a strange smile that papered over the urge to cry. He crouched down on the sidewalk. His legs didn't feel like they could hold him any more.

'You all right, Ned?' Ben asked him quietly, taking a step closer.

'Yeah,' he said.

He could smell Johnny somewhere nearby. He could smell the tobacco interlaced with the weave of his coat. He could smell blood. He stood up and walked, carefully and alone, off the low edge of the sidewalk onto the dirt road. Ben and Julie stayed where they were, silent and waiting. He moved toward that scent until the toe of his boot touched something, and then he knelt and reached out until his hands touched the thin cotton of Johnny's shirt and the solidity of his body beneath.

Johnny was warm, but he was still. There was nothing there. Ned had never thought hard about a man's soul, but he knew that there was no soul there any more. Johnny was gone.

He laid his hand flat on Johnny's chest and felt the curious stillness beneath his ribs. Then he moved his hands down to Johnny's waist and after a moment of hesitation he unbuckled his gun belt. He felt along Johnny's arms to his hands but his hands were empty. He swept his hand over the dirt, feeling close to Johnny's body, and his fingers struck one of those guns.

He knelt still a moment, then said in a voice that felt like a thin layer of normality over something deep and unexplored, 'Ben, where is it?'

Ben was silent. He moved back and forth on the sidewalk, his boots making a hollow noise on the wood. Then he stopped and picked something up, and came to Ned. He crouched down beside him and said, 'Here you are, Ned.'

Ned took the weapon silently from Ben's hand. He buckled the gun belt around his own waist and holstered the guns. He could not use them, but he could carry them, and think of Johnny – and after all that had happened it felt good to have those guns at his side.


	16. Chapter 16

16.

Ned stood up and turned around and walked back to the sidewalk, away from where Johnny lay. As he stepped up onto the boards Julie's hand slipped into his and squeezed it softly. He felt as if he were stepping from a cliff as the land sheered away and fell, and Julie was pulling him safe onto solid ground. He was losing everything that he knew, but he was gaining a new world at the same time.

'Well, I guess we should go sort out the particulars,' Ben said, clapping a hand onto Ned's back.

'Yeah,' Ned said slowly. 'We've got money. We – can have him buried real nice, and – '

His voice broke up, and he bit his mouth closed.

'I'll take care of it all, Ned,' Ben promised him. 'I would have killed Johnny with my own hands – you know that – but he did good in the end. I guess he weren't no coward.'

Ned smiled thinly. He didn't trust himself to speak all the way down Main Street as they walked. He swallowed and kept swallowing on the grief that was rising inside him. He held on to Julie's arm and walked steadily and with his head held up, glad that he could not see the town and the townsfolk about him.

He was grateful that Ben was there to speak to men and explain what had happened and to talk quietly with the undertaker. He felt numbed and cut off from the world around him, and quite incapable of explaining all that had happened. He had a lingering fear that he would be held somehow to account for all those deaths, or that Ben would be taken in for killing Dave Parker – but none of his fears were realised. Dave Parker would have been hung for killing Uncle Charlie anyway, if it could have been proved, and he had been seen threatening to kill Ned and Johnny and then shooting Johnny down.

'That whole posse of men are better off out of the world than in it, Mr Shelby,' the sheriff had said. 'They ran this town like it was their own. The Fort might be a cleaner place from now on.'

When they finally stepped out into the street again it was crawling towards evening. The chill was settling into a harder cold in the street and the only sounds came from the saloon.

'Well, I don't know what you want to do now, Ned,' Ben said. 'We could put up in the hotel for the night.'

'I want to go back to the ranch,' Ned said. He wanted the familiarity of home around him.

'Johnny sold the ranch to Dave Parker,' Ben reminded him.

'Dave Parker's dead,' Ned said. 'He ain't got no family. I guess that ranch is still ours.'

Ben laughed shortly. 'I guess it is, at least until the dust settles. But what about Julie?'

'Well, there's beds enough,' Ned said innocently.

'No, Ned,' Julie said quickly. 'I won't come and stay at the ranch until we're married. I won't have that kind of talk going on about me in this town.'

Ned felt a flush rising to his cheeks. He had not even considered what it would mean for a single woman going out to the ranch with two men. But he was afraid, irrationally afraid, of leaving Julie here to go back to the ranch and never finding her again.

'Julie, is there any sense in waiting?' he asked suddenly, taking hold of both her hands. 'I mean – you ain't going to change your mind?'

Julie hesitated, and then Ben said self-consciously, 'Well, I – guess I'll go see to those horses. They must've got taken off to the corral with the coach horses. Best I get 'em back before Abbott starts to think he owns them.'

'Thanks, Ben,' Ned said quietly. He waited until Ben's footsteps faded down the street, and then turned back to Julie. 'What do you say, Julie? You ain't going to think better of it? I mean, of marrying a feller with this handicap?'

'Oh, Ned,' Julie said slowly. 'I'm not worrying about you being blind. I'm worrying about me being – well – being what I am.'

'You ain't nothing but yourself,' Ned said firmly. 'And you weren't – You never – Well, you wasn't a public woman, Julie,' he finished in a rush.

'No, I never did do that,' she said quietly. 'Those old dev-' She broke off abruptly. 'I mean to say, the _ladies_ in Willerton thought maybe I did, but I didn't sink that far.'

'Then all you ever did was dance with men and make nice with them,' Ned reasoned. 'Why, there's plenty of women do that for nothing. Julie, I ain't going to hold nothing against you. But do you think you can stick with a husband that can't see? I can pull my weight, but I can't do all the things most folks can. I'll need Ben to help on the ranch, and I'll need you to help me with most everything else I have difficulties with. It ain't an easy burden I'm putting on you.'

'I'm happy to take that burden,' Julie said softly. 'It won't be a burden, Ned. It'll be a pleasure to be alongside you.'

Ned smiled. He reached a hand up to her face, touching her there for the first time. Her skin was smooth under his palm. He could feel her cheekbone under his fingertips and then the softness of her cheek and small wisps of hair that bordered her face.

'Julie,' he said, stepping closer. 'Would you maybe – '

He felt so much less certain than he had when he was younger and courting Nellie Carlton. Perhaps it was that this felt so much more special, so much more real. He didn't feel a dizzy, stomach-churning yearning for Julie, or a fire that seemed to take away his mind and make only his body act. He wanted to sit and spend long evenings together with Julie, to lie beside her in bed at night and to wake up to the feel of her body and the sound of her breathing in the morning. If he had leaned his lips towards Nellie Carlton and she had laughed and flounced away the pain would have been a short-lived thing. If Julie did the same he would feel bereft.

'Julie,' he said again, tracing his fingers down her cheek to the underneath of her chin and tilting her head up. She was small and he was over six feet tall. Her head only reached just about to his shoulder. He half smiled and then laughed at the difficulty, and then she laughed too. It was the first time he had heard her laugh and it was a beautiful sound.

Something seemed to fall loose in both of them and it all became easy. He could feel her breath close to his face and then her lips touched his, soft and intimate. He stood with his eyes closed, his hand laid across her back, holding her steady, and time seemed to slow to nothing. He thought that maybe her lips felt like roses, but they were warm and roses were not.

'Julie,' he said in a low voice, the space between them a mere sliver of distance. 'Let's get married as soon as Ben's wife gets here. Then we can all start anew. Would you like that?'

'I'd like that, Ned,' she said, the looseness and easiness filling her voice. 'I'd like that a lot.'

'We'll put up at the hotel like Ben said,' he told her. 'That way you'll be right nearby, but all legitimate. Ben's wife should be here in the next few days – maybe tomorrow, even. I'll talk to the Reverend, and then – we can be married.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ned stood at the window in his hotel room with the sash pushed up. He had never stayed in a town overnight. The sounds of the place were not many, but they were new and different. Mostly he heard piano music from the saloon, and the occasional swell of men's voices. Dave Parker and his gang were dead, but that had not stopped the saloon from entertaining those that needed it. He shivered as he listened to those noises, thinking of Julie in a room just down the hall, and of how different they must sound to her.

He was so tired that his whole face ached, the palms of his hands ached, the span of his shoulders ached. His eyes felt wide and hot and dry. He had eaten, at least. They had all eaten in the hotel dining room and Ned had had to hold himself back from asking Ben to fill his plate again and again after almost three days of near starving. But sleep was something he was not quite ready to approach. There seemed something wrong in sleeping and ending the day in which Johnny had died.

'Ned, if you don't shut that window and go to bed soon I'm going to find myself a new room where all the heat from the fire don't get sucked out into the street,' Ben threatened eventually.

Ned drew his head back in from the cold night air and slid the window down. The sounds faded behind the glass panes and he turned back to face the room.

'You give me a hand, Ben?' he asked.

'Sure thing,' Ben said. His own bed creaked as he stood up and came to Ned. 'You want to wash up first?'

'I think I'll just sleep,' Ned said.

Away from the window, he suddenly wanted no more than to fall into his bed and close his eyes. He took Ben's arm and Ben led him across the room to his bed.

'I'll damp down the fire and turn out the lamp,' Ben told him. 'You bed down and sleep, Ned. It's been a long day.'

'Yeah,' Ned smiled wryly.

His hand was on the bedstead. They weren't wooden beds here – they had cast iron frames made of loops and swirls and textured discs that were a swooping pleasure to his fingers. He could have run his fingers over those lines for a long time, trying to decipher the shapes and patterns in them.

'You know, Ned, in some places they have institutions to teach the blind,' Ben said suddenly. He must have been watching Ned in his exploration of that iron maze. 'Can even teach you to read writing you feel with your fingers. With that money from the ranch – '

Ned laughed briefly.

'I never was much of one for reading and writing,' he said, unbuttoning his shirt and laying it over the iron frame. 'Maybe I spent too much time with the teacher trying to make me write right handed when I wanted to use my left. I don't miss it any. Johnny got us that money so we could farm with it, and that's what I'm going to do.'

'You ever heard of the Homestead Act, Ned?' Ben asked.

Ned paused in his undressing. 'No, I ain't.'

'Well, it ain't been around long. Government says you can take a hundred sixty acres of land west of the Mississippi, and if you can farm it for five years, you can keep it. We can go north, file adjoining claims. That's three hundred twenty acres of land for the taking. It's good land up there, Ned – wide and green and full of everything you want. You can do just about anything on it. Raise cattle, grow wheat. We can farm the land together. Once you have sons and I have sons they'll inherit that land and help us out.

_Sons…_ The thought of that made Ned's mind blank for a moment. He could not imagine having sons… He thought of Julie with a baby in her arms. He still didn't know what colour her hair was but he gave her a face in his mind and dark hair around it. There would be a house built just how they wanted it, and horses in the barn, and acres of land spreading out around them that was theirs and no one else's. There would be no feuds or resentments shadowing him. He could walk out into that land without the fear of a man with a gun wanting to take his life.

'We could go somewhere no one's ever been bothered by Johnny,' he said slowly. 'My ma's folks come from Minnesota. She always said it was good land up there, but pa wanted to live where the winters weren't so hard...'

'Well, it's something to think on,' Ben said. 'With that money Johnny got you for the ranch you could set up real nice. You'd have a head start right there.'

'I guess I've got cousins up there still,' Ned said. 'I'll write them tomorrow – I mean, if you'll write for me, Ben – and find out what they say about the place. Maybe we could be farming by next spring…'

'Yeah, I'll write for you,' Ben promised. 'Now get into bed, Ned. I'm tired and you're tireder, and I want to sleep some time before midnight.'

Ned slung his dirt-roughened pants on top of the shirt. This hotel was so clean and fancy he felt ashamed of his worn and travel-soiled clothes. He barely thought about the state of his clothes when he was at home, but it was different here in town.

Somewhere downstairs he heard a clock chime out ten o'clock. He hadn't realised it was so late. He folded back the covers and got into bed, and felt like he had lain down on a cloud. The mattress was feather. There was no straw smell and he sank into the softness as if he were falling into quicksand. He didn't know if he liked it or not.

He thought of Johnny, lying at the undertakers with nothing but pine beneath his back and pine over his face. Johnny had been ten years older than him, always big, always strong, always knowing what to do. It didn't make sense that he was dead. It didn't make sense that Ned had learnt to hate him and be glad that he was gone from the world, and then found him to be alive, and then just as he had learnt to see him for what he was he had gone again.

He thought of how Johnny had worked on nothing but guilt and responsibility for years. He had felt responsible for Ned since their parents died, and he had run wild to give himself some measure of freedom against the day-to-day aching work of running the ranch with Uncle Charlie and keeping Ned in school and keeping just enough money coming in to feed him. He had felt responsible for Ned when Ned had been beaten almost to death on account of him and had woken up blind. He had been there every day for months, helping him and nursing him, and when he hadn't been there he had been out trying to earn money to pay for the doctor's bills. Maybe he had resented Ned for being left dependent on him, but he had not left him until he had gone to war, and perhaps, perhaps, Ned could understand a little of the reasons why Johnny had taken so long to come home.

As for Tennessee Ridge… Ned sighed, turning onto his side and cupping his hand under his head. Maybe he could understand that… Maybe he could understand that Johnny would not let himself die until he could be sure that Ned was set for life without him. Maybe he could understand Johnny's fear of dying – he had had enough fear of dying put into his own soul over the last days to understand something of that. It was not an easy thing to give up your own life to save others.

'Ben,' Ned said slowly. Ben had got into his own bed now. He could hear him turning on the mattress.

'Yeah, Ned,' Ben said.

'Ben, your brother – ' he began. He didn't quite know what he wanted to say.

There was a soft puff as Ben blew out the lamp.

'Yeah,' Ben said again.

'I don't know, Ben,' he said. Then he said, 'I'm sorry for what Johnny did. I'm sorry you lost him. I know ain't nothing going to bring him back, but – '

'Ned, you remember what Uncle Charlie said,' Ben cut across him. 'I got a brother now. So do you. Ain't nothing can change what happened on account of Johnny, but he did right in the end.'

'Yeah,' Ned said, resting his head back on the pillow again.

The silence filled the room. He could hear Ben breathing softly nearby. He closed his eyes and tried to pull sleep into his mind.

'Ned,' Ben said after a space of time.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Ned, I wept for my brother. Ain't no shame in you doing the same for Johnny.'

Ned half smiled, and nodded. He let the side of his face hide against the softness of the pillow and pulled the covers up tight to his neck. He felt the aching hollow in his chest that Uncle Charlie and Johnny had left. No amount of soft coverings around him could soften that ache.


	17. Chapter 17

17.

He woke aching all over, as if all of the trials of the last days had come together and settled in his body over that one night. He raised a hand to his cheek, feeling the sharpness of the bruise from where Johnny had hit him more than a day ago. It seemed strange for his skin to feel the pain of a blow from someone who was no longer in this life.

He got out of bed and stood for a moment, disoriented. He had not taken the trouble to find out much about the room last night. He wasn't even sure where the door was – but he knew about the window. He walked over to it with careful steps, a hand held out before him. There was no way of telling what time it may be without hearing something of the outdoors.

He pushed open the sash and put his head out into the cold air. No dust had been raised in the street and the air had the thin, damp feeling of early morning. He stood a while, listening, until he heard a solitary set of footsteps out on the dirt of the road. He coughed lightly and heard the steps falter momentarily, so he called out, 'Could you tell me the time, sir?'

'Struck six a while back,' a voice called up. 'And if you're going to hang out of windows I'd recommend putting some clothes on before the day gets any lighter.'

'Oh!' Ned said, touching a hand to his chest as he remembered that he was half naked and this town was full of windows looking back at this one. He straightened up, banging his head on the frame as he did. 'Thank you,' he said to the man in the street, pressing a hand to his head. Then he closed the window and drew the curtains back over the glass. He was glad he didn't live in town.

'Ned?' Ben mumbled from his bed. 'Ned, what in tarnation – '

'Did I wake you, Ben?' Ned asked apologetically, making his way back to his bed and feeling for his clothes on the iron bedstead.

'Yeah,' Ben said. 'But I'm awake now, so there's no sense in wasting the day. We've got plenty to do.'

'Have we, Ben?' Ned asked as he pulled on his pants.

'You want to get married when Jane gets here, don't you?' Ben asked him lightly. 'Well, you'll want to talk to the preacher and make arrangements and all. Les Rawlins, the coach driver, said they might be running another coach from Willerton today or tomorrow now the Indian threat's been taken care of, so I guess Jane'll be here pretty soon.'

Ned sat down on his bed and shook out his shirt, feeling the seams to be sure it was right side out. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and began to button it up the front.

'I never thought I'd be getting married, Ben,' he smiled. 'Never hardly dreamed it since I lost my sight.'

'Well, I guess some good came from the Parker lot chasing us half way across the state,' Ben said with a laugh. 'Julie's a nice girl. She suits you well.'

'Ain't she?' Ned smiled. 'I know I ain't known her long, but I feel like I've been waiting for her all my life. She's good and kind and clever, and I can talk to her about just about anything – and she don't judge a feller by what's wrong with him. And – I don't know what she looks like, Ben, but she sure feels like a woman. I mean – what I've felt,' he said awkwardly. 'I mean her hair and her face and her lips. Oh man…'

Ben laughed. 'She looks like a woman to me,' he said. 'And I mean the kind of woman you'd want to – Well – I shouldn't go on about things like that, being married myself… But there ain't no imperfections about her.'

Ned sat on the bed, his fingers absently tracing the meandering stitching of the quilt, thinking about that. Everything he knew about Julie came in snatches – catching the brush of her skirts against him as she moved, or the small sounds of her movements, or the briefest skimming touch of his fingers on her bodice as he reached out to her arm and misjudged. There was a feel of an unwrapped present about her. It would be wonderful to finally let his hands wander over that whole unexplored country.

'Ben, you think we've got time to ride back to the ranch and fetch some things?' he asked suddenly. 'I've – well – there's some jewellery of my ma's I'd like Julie to have, and I want to get my Sunday clothes. I ain't worn those clothes in a long time, but I don't think I'm any taller now than I was.'

'You grow any taller, Ned, and you'd be knocking your head on doorframes,' Ben laughed. 'Yeah, I think we've got time to go get those clothes. We can ride out to the ranch this morning and sort out all the details of your marrying this afternoon. The Willerton stage won't be in til late anyway, if it's coming.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ned's Sunday clothes were clean and starched and smelt of mothballs. They had not been out of the drawer under his bed for almost five years and he couldn't even remember what colour the shirt was. He had not tied a neck tie in all that time, and wasn't sure he remembered how. But they still fit and Ben thought they still looked fine for marrying in.

It had been strange riding out to the ranch to get them. Even after a few days the place felt cold and deserted and Uncle Charlie left a vacant hole just about everywhere Ned turned. They had seen to the horses and tidied the house some, and then rode back as soon as possible. In some ways Ned was glad be back in the hotel with a fire burning slowly into the fireplace and without the thought of that shootout always echoing in his mind as it had out in the natural silence of the ranch.

'Well, Ned, it's about time to see that preacher,' Ben said, clapping him on the arm.

Ned nodded, hastily doing up the last button of the clean shirt he had collected along with his Sunday clothes. He and Julie were to meet the minister in the parlour of the hotel, and he felt nervous as a cat near water.

There was a knock at the door and Ben went to open it.

'All right, Ned, it's Julie,' he said, and Ned straightened up abruptly, feeling around for his hat.

'Here,' Ben said, putting his hat in his hand and catching his elbow to lead him to the door. 'Don't worry, Ned – it's his business to make marriages. He's not going to turn you away.'

Ned smiled thinly. He couldn't help but feel that something must go wrong – that the minister would tell him he had no right to marry with his handicap to hold him back, or that he had not known Julie for long enough and they had chosen to marry too soon.

'Ned,' Julie said, taking his arm as he came to the door, and suddenly his fears were steadied.

'Julie,' he said quietly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. 'Julie, I can't pretend I went out and bought this. It was my ma's. I guess it's old-fashioned and I don't know that it'll fit you, even – but I think ma would be glad I was giving it to you. It's her engagement ring.'

Julie took the box and opened it. For a moment she was wordless, and then she said, 'Oh, Ned, it's beautiful.'

'It's opal and pearls,' Ned said. 'Does it fit, Julie?'

'Yes, Ned, it fits,' she said softly, putting her hand to his. 'It fits like it was made for me. See?'

He traced his fingers over her hand, feeling the narrow circlet with its setting of two small pearls and an opal sitting snug about her ring finger. She was right. It fit perfectly.

'Then we're ready to see the minister,' he said, taking her arm again.

He walked down the stairs with her with great care. He never encountered stairs in normal life, and he was distracted enough by seeing the minister to trip and break his neck. But he made it safely to the bottom and walked with Julie into the parlour, feeling not that he was being led but that they were walking together.

'Why, Edward Tallon,' the reverend said as they walked into the room, and Ned took his hat off, flustered, and almost dropped it. 'How you've grown.'

'Reverend Tilman,' Ned said, ducking his head.

'I don't think I've seen you in church since you were knee high to a grasshopper,' the reverend said.

Ned opened his mouth, uncomfortable, and the reverend said quickly, 'It's all right, Edward. I know the difficulties of ranching. My folks had a farm back east. They barely made it to church once a month, if that. How have you been, Edward, since your accident?' he asked kindly.

'I've been fine,' Ned nodded. There was no sense in recounting all the fortunes and misfortunes that had struck him in that time. They were too many to number. 'Reverend, this here is Julie Morse,' Ned said diffidently, nodding towards Julie. 'We – we'd like to get married.'

'Oh,' the reverend said slowly, as if he had begun surprised and then tried to suppress the sound in his voice. 'Well, that's possible, Ned. I'm very pleased for you both. When were you thinking – ?'

'Just as soon as possible,' Ned said. 'Julie don't have nowhere to stay, Reverend, and she can't come back to the ranch until we're married, so – '

The reverend was silent. Ned felt Julie's fingers gripping harder on his arm. He knew she was thinking about where she had come from and why she had left.

'Well, Edward,' the reverend said, taking a few paces away and then coming back to stand before them. Ned could hear him scratching his neck. 'I have to admit that your brother has handed me a good deal of work this week. We're burying John on Tuesday, aren't we? That's what your friend Mr Shelby arranged.'

Ned nodded silently, a feeling of grief rising in his throat and mixing with his nervousness.

'Edward, I'll be honest,' the reverend said. 'I can marry you two folks on Thursday, right after we take care of your brother. That's the only time I have. Would that suit you?'

'Julie?' Ned asked quietly, turning to her.

'Yeah, Ned, that would suit me fine,' she said, her fingers briefly squeezing on his arm and then relaxing again.

'Well, that's wonderful,' the reverend said with a smile in his voice. 'Come see me tomorrow morning, Edward, and we'll talk some more about the details.'

'Thank you, sir,' Ned said, tentatively offering his hand. The reverend took it and shook it firmly, his hand soft and strong in Ned's. He waited until Reverend Tilman had left the room and then turned to Julie with a smile breaking over his face. 'Thursday, Julie,' he said eagerly, taking her hands in his. 'Thursday, and then the rest of our lives can begin.'

She reached up and kissed him, wordless and glad.

There was a noise of someone clearing his throat at the door and Ned broke away self-consciously.

'Ben,' he said. 'We can get married Thursday. Day after tomorrow!'

'Ain't your brother being buried on Thursday?' Ben asked him pointedly, stepping into the room.

'Yeah, he is,' Ned said, sobering. 'But that ain't no problem. I think I like the idea – kinda like Johnny's going to be there. I think he'd be glad, Ben. He was glad of Julie and me taking up together.'

'Yeah, I guess he would be,' Ben said.

'Ben, who's with you?' Ned asked suddenly, becoming aware of the noise of a second person standing with him.

'Stage from Willerton came in,' Ben said with a smile in his voice. 'Ned, I'd like for you to meet my wife Jane.'

'Oh!' Ned said, stepping forward, his face dissolving into smiles.

'I'm real glad to meet you, Ned,' said a soft female voice. 'Ben's wrote so much about you.'

She took his outstretched hand and he shook it, feeling small fingers and warm skin.

'Jane, this is Julie,' Ned said eagerly, nodding back towards where Julie had been. 'We're going to be married day after tomorrow. Did Ben tell you that?'

'Ben told me a little on the walk from the stage,' she said. 'Said we're going to be setting up house together until we can move north and settle adjoining claims and start farming again.'

Julie was silent. Ned could hear her fingering nervously at her clothes. He could feel her hesitation as she wondered how much Jane knew about her.

'Julie's from a ranching family outside of Willerton,' he said quickly, reaching out to Julie's arm. 'Soon as we're married we can move back to the Tallon ranch and start sorting things for the move.'

'Ned, I don't have any dress that's fit for getting married in,' Julie worried, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. Ned knew that her dress was low-cut and sleeveless, made for looking pretty to drinking men, not for standing in church. She held that shawl about herself like a shield.

'Well, you know I don't mind what you wear,' Ned smiled. 'It don't make no difference to me nohow.'

'But Julie's a woman,' Jane said quickly, 'and it always makes a difference to a woman to be married in a good dress. But I think we're of a size, Julie. I have a lovely blue delaine you could wear – that would be your something borrowed and something blue. It would look real pretty with that dark red hair.'

Ned turned to Julie with a smile. In all this time he still hadn't asked her hair colour, but he could imagine it being a dark, lively red. At the offer of the dress something of the tension seemed to melt away from Julie. Ned could feel the muscles of her arm relaxing under his fingers. Julie would talk to Jane about her past, he was sure, when it was the right time. He had heard enough of Jane from Ben to know that she would take it for what it was – a necessary move in a hard time.

'That's real nice of you,' Julie said. 'And my boots are old enough to be something old.'

'And your ring will be something new,' Ned said in joy. 'It's going to be perfect, Julie. You'll see. There won't be another wedding more perfect than this one.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The stove was lit in the small board church, driving away the winter cold of outside. It felt like a snug, sheltered place after standing out in the graveyard nearby. Ned had felt divorced from the funeral, unable to see the coffin or the grave or the face of the preacher as he read from his book. Johnny was more present in his mind than he was there before him. He had been gone for so long, and had only come back for a few short days. Ned was used to life without his physical presence.

Ned still seemed to smell the scent of turned earth from outside where Johnny was lying, and where most of the Parker gang were lying or would be lying soon, but it was a good thing to him. It was a comfort that Johnny's passing and this union were so intimately linked. The greatest reality now was Julie beside him, her hand on his arm and the soft sounds of her dress as she moved. His sadness at Johnny was a distant thing and his joy at what was about to take place rippled in the surface of his mind, mixed only with a lingering nervousness.

'Would you like to move to the front of the church, Edward, and we'll get you two married,' the reverend said kindly.

Ned started as if he had forgotten that the minister was even there. He walked with Julie the length of the church, his boots making a hollow sound on the boards, and stopped when she stopped. His clothes felt stiff and unworn, and still smelt faintly of mothballs. The necktie was tight at his throat, tied by Ben's steady hands. Julie stood beside him, before the minister, quiet and nervous too. Her arm was looped through his and he reached across with his other hand to touch the soft wool delaine of her sleeve. The dress fit like paint and both Ben and Jane said that she looked beautiful. She wore a gold breast pin against a flounce of lace at her throat, and Jane said her dark red hair set off the blue of the dress beautifully.

Ned listened to the minister's words and said what he was supposed to say, but the only reality in the room was Julie, standing so close that they touched at the hip and her skirts pushed about his legs. He could feel her breathing, steady and slow and feel the slight tremor of her heart through her body. Her voice was soft and low when she spoke, and did not shake like his. He smiled as Julie promised to love, honour and obey him. He couldn't see that Julie was the type to obey without good reason – but he was happy with that. He wanted to spend his life with a partner, not a servant.

And finally the minister pronounced them married, and his legs seemed to lose their strength. He could not stop smiling. Ben's hand clapped on his shoulder and he and Jane wished them well, and then they were left alone in the small board church.

'You all right, Julie?' he asked her quietly, and her hand squeezed on his arm.

'I'm just fine, Ned,' she said. 'Better than I have been in a long while.'

'I guess we're married,' he said.

'I guess we are.'

Her hand reached up to touch his face, and he could feel the solid gold band that he had placed on her finger, warmed by her blood and brushing over his skin. He kissed her, feeling as if this were the first and only kiss he had shared in his life.

'Oh, Julie,' he said as they broke apart, thinking of the Christmas tree with its swinging pine cones and the shapes of cut out tobacco paper. 'Just wait til you see what we've got in the house for Christmas. You ain't never seen nothing like it, I bet. And we'll have Christmas together real soon. Our first Christmas together. It's going to be like the first Christmas I ever had…'


	18. Chapter 18

18.

Two Years Later

This new world seemed to be made of grass and nothing else. When Ned walked outside the grass brushed at his legs knee-high and insects flew up around him. He heard grasshoppers chittering and birds everywhere and the sky reached as high as the birds could sing. There were no sheer cliffs to channel and echo the noises on the land.

Julie said that the prairie was like a circle, like standing on a great dinner plate where the sun rose at one edge and set at the other in a blazing of light. But to Ned, when the wind was blowing and the creek rushing in the bluffs, it felt like the whole world was made of straight lines all going the same way. There was nothing but the two houses and the stable to take the wind and deflect it, and that only made a small blustering sound in the great whole.

Three hundred and twenty acres all around where Ned stood was his and Ben's, and it was all soft, gentle swells and good grass rich with life. There was hardly a day Ben didn't come back with some flesh or fowl shot out on the range. They had built their houses unconventionally, perhaps, but sensibly, as two half houses joined together across the line between their claims with a door between them, and the stable only ten yards away out back. One wall of the corral was the stable, and one wall was the houses, and Ned could walk out to the stable straight through the corral with no fear of losing his way. Even Ben had been glad of that arrangement the first time a blizzard overtook the land and he could go see to the horses in the blinding snow with no chance of wandering into the open prairie and missing the stable.

Today was a day for walking back and forth across the trodden-bare ground out front of the house and for checking on the horses more often than was necessary, and for walking out into the long grass and pulling the seedheads through his fingers restlessly and letting the seeds loose to the wind. From inside the house Ned sometimes heard a low moan, and sometimes heard Jane's voice speaking softly and firmly, and once he heard Julie crying out something that sounded like a curse.

At that he turned back to the door and made to go inside, but Ben caught hold of his arm and steered him away.

'Come on, Ned,' he said. 'Women-folk don't want men in there at a time like this. Let Jane look after her just like she looked after Jane when she had our Bessie.'

Ned's ear was turned to the house, but he followed Ben's hand. Ben was carrying the year-old Bessie in his arm. Bewildered and uncomprehending of what was happening inside, she had cried and wailed and tugged at his and Ben's legs and finally fallen asleep against Ben's chest.

'Ben, you think I can manage a baby?' he asked nervously. 'I mean, my own baby.'

Ben laughed shortly. 'Too late for that now, Ned. Besides, the baby's for Julie to manage, and you've done real good with Bessie. Sometimes I think she loves her Uncle Ned as much as she loves her ma and pa.'

Ned smiled, reaching to adjust his hat as the wind blew up under the brim. After travelling for weeks in a wagon up through the wide states, and living here in the wagon while Ben built the house and he helped as he could, and building up a new herd of cattle, and learning the ways of this new place and new land, he felt ten years older, in some ways, instead of just two. In other ways he felt as if he had been reborn, free of every lingering fear that was attached to being Johnny Tallon's brother. No one here had even heard of Johnny Tallon.

'Well, I guess we ain't going out to check the herd today,' Ben said after a space of silence. 'Not with Bessie asleep like this. Otherwise I'd take you out there and set your mind on other things.'

'I don't want to set my mind on other things,' Ned said, his ear turned towards the house again. 'The herd'll be fine for one day.'

'Well, then – how about you chop some of that wood we hauled up from the creek yesterday?' Ben asked.

Ned turned to him, grinning suddenly. 'Ben, I reckon you're more nervous than I am,' he realised. 'You just ain't saying so.'

Ben laughed quietly. 'I reckon maybe I am,' he said. 'Ned, you remember when we were holed up in Navajo Canyon waiting to see who'd get us first, the Indians or the Parker Gang?'

'I ain't likely to forget that,' Ned said, thinking of the cold of the air and the spreading silence and the knowledge that somewhere were men that wanted to kill him.

'Well, the feeling I had then ain't a patch on this,' Ben admitted. 'Waiting for a birth when there ain't nothing you can do in the world to help. I'd rather be sitting in the canyon waiting for Indians – except there ain't no canyons here and there ain't no Indians no more, neither. So I guess we'll have to stay here and wait for that baby, instead.'

'I guess you won't need to wait no longer,' Jane said from the door.

Ned spun. He made for the door, confident of the smooth, hard earth under his feet. He didn't know who to think of first, Julie, or that small anonymous person that had been born from her. Jane caught at his arm as he reached her.

'Slow down, Ned,' she said to him firmly. 'Things might have been moved around inside and the last thing Julie needs is you going head over heels and breaking a bone. Here, let me take you. No, Ben – you can stay outside,' she added quickly as Ben made to follow. 'She's in no state to be seen by you.'

'Where is she?' Ned asked. He could smell blood and sweat. It smelt like there had been a calving inside the house. 'Julie?'

'She's just fine,' Jane said, leading him across the floor. He could tell by his path that things had been moved. 'They're both just fine.'

'Julie?' he asked again. The curtain that separated bedroom from living room brushed against his face and then he heard noises – the smallest, strangest noises of a life that was no more than a few minutes old.

'I'm here, Ned,' Julie said in a voice that was full of tiredness and contentment.

He reached out blindly and her hand caught his, her fingers damp with sweat and weak around his.

'Julie,' he said, bending down towards her and reaching a hand out to her head. Her hair was damp with sweat, pushed back from her face and tied with a ribbon. He could feel by her cheek that she was smiling.

'Here, Ned, there's a chair,' Jane told him, pushing it behind him, and he sat down.

'Is it a boy, Julie?' he asked, reaching out against towards that small mewling noise. His hand touched Julie's bare flesh and he thought maybe she was naked. A flush rose to his cheeks at the thought of them being together like that in front of Jane. Then Julie said, 'Yeah, Ned, it's a boy. It's our boy.'

She took his hand again and guided it, and his fingers lighted on a blanket wrapped tight and firm around something small. He slipped his fingers underneath to feel soft, damp flesh that felt like the unfurling of a new leaf. He could feel the rapid flutter of a tiny heart in there, and soft, quick breaths. The last time he had felt that life had been as strong, determined movements under the taut tent of Julie's skin.

'It's our son?' he asked stupidly. 'This is our son?'

'Yeah,' Julie said, and he could hear exhaustion in her voice.

'Has he got hair?' he asked, slipping his hand up to the head to feel a thin skim of damp and dirtied hair. 'What colour is it, Julie? What colour are his eyes?'

'Blonde, like yours – kinda hay coloured,' Julie said. 'His eyes are blue, just like yours. And he's big, Ned. He's going to be a big boy.'

Ned almost laughed. How could this tiny bundle of flesh whose whole back fitted under his palm be described as big?

'Ma said I was born six foot tall and kept growing from there,' he said. 'Maybe it runs in the family. Can I hold him, Julie?'

'Sure,' she said. 'He's your son, Ned.'

She lifted her arm, but Ned could feel that she was trembling with tiredness. He reached out, running his hands over the tightly wrapped bundle, remembering all the hours of holding Ben and Jane's Bessie in the early months. He had become something of a nursemaid in that time, when Jane was still confined and Julie was busy doing the housework for two houses.

'I can get him,' he said, lifting the baby away from her breast. He held it snug in his arms, touching his fingers lightly to its face, feeling soft rounded cheeks, a nose that was hardly a nose at all, and petal-soft lips that moved against his finger and tried to tease it into the mouth. He looked for the hands and touched a damp palm, and fingers that were smaller than seemed possible curled around his.

'I want to call him Johnny,' he said. 'Can we call him John, Julie?'

'It's a good name,' Julie said. 'We can call him that.'

'I thought, with what Johnny was – '

'Whatever Johnny was, he gave himself up to save you,' Julie said, a firmness steadying the fatigue in her voice. 'It's a good name. I'm proud for our boy to have it. He can be John Edward. And soon as we have another boy, we can call him Charlie. They'll be good, strong boys, and we'll be proud of them.'

Ned knew he was grinning stupidly, but he did not care. There was only Julie and Jane to see it, and this small bundle of life in his arms that did not even know what a smile was yet. He held it against him, feeling it with his chest and the lengths of his arms, caught by the sudden knowledge that he would do anything to defend this small life from the world around it.

'Let me take him for a minute, Ned,' Jane said, laying her hand on his shoulder. 'I'll take him out to Ben. It's warm enough outside. You have some time with Julie alone.'

Ned could somehow sense the anxiety in Julie. He felt it himself. He felt like he never wanted to be parted from such a tiny, helpless thing. But he nodded, and Julie did not argue. He let Jane take the child and as she passed through the curtain he turned back to Julie and reached a hand out to her face again.

'I'm real proud of you, Julie,' he said, stroking his fingers along her forehead and cheek, trying to smooth the tiredness out of her.

'Ned,' she murmured, as if she did not know what else to say. Her hand caught his and stilled it. 'Ned Tallon, are you crying?'

Ned grinning, touching his free hand to his cheek. 'I guess maybe I am,' he said, feeling the evidence of tears on his skin. 'I reckon I don't know if I'm coming or going. I can't be as tired as you, but I could sleep for a week on the one hand and ride for a week on the other – I'm so plumb confused.'

'Go on outside,' Julie said to him, squeezing her hand on his with all the strength she could muster. 'Go on out to Ben and tell Jane to bring the baby back in. I need to learn to feed him and I need to get tidied up. You go on out with Ben and ride for a week if you need to – I'll be here when you come back.'

Ned smiled and bent forward, tracing her face with his hand and then kissing her lips with gentle firmness.

'I'll be back long before a week's gone,' he promised. 'I'll be back before sunset.'

He went through the curtain and picked his way carefully through the disarranged house to the door. He could hear the weak, shrill sound of crying from out there, and as he opened the door it got louder.

'Well, he's sure got lungs in that chest,' Ben said as Ned came out. He clapped a hand on Ned's arm. 'Congratulations, Ned. That's a fine boy you've got there.'

'I know,' Ned said, his face split with a grin. 'Jane, Julie asked me to send you back in. Ben, is Bessie awake?'

'Yeah, your Johnny saw to that,' Ben laughed.

'Then we can go check the herd. I mean, Julie told me to go.'

'Come on then, Ned,' Ben said, setting Bessie down on the ground. 'You go with your ma,' he said, but Ned knew that Bessie would need no prompting to toddle after her mother and catch hold of her skirts. 'Let's go saddle up.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

Doggone had walked all the way from Arizona to Minnesota, and he was still the same staid, obedient horse that he had always been. He still walked up to Ned in the corral and twined his neck about him and nuzzled at his hands, and still obeyed the slightest nudge from Ned's knees or twitch from the reins. Ned still felt as if he were free when he was sitting on Doggone's back.

This grassland was endless. The thousands of stalks of grass made a swishing sound against the horses' legs as they galloped, and Ned held his face up to the wind and whooped for joy. He and Ben had given up any pretence of checking the cattle almost as soon as they had mounted their horses. All Ned wanted to do was gallop. He could feel the low sun burning against the side of his face as he rode and hear birds flying up in surprise at the sudden pounding hooves through their grassland home. The air was warm and clear in his lungs, with no dust mixed in. There was nothing but the scent of flowers and hay all around him.

Finally he reined Doggone in and slowed to a walk, and as the wind of riding dropped the scent of the warm grass rose around him.

'I thought I'd miss the canyons some,' he said as Ben came alongside. 'But I don't. It was all in my memory anyway. It's not like you can touch one of them towering cliffs. But this place – I ain't never seen it, but I can taste it in my mouth and hear it all around me. It's a land of milk and honey, Ben. I don't think anything could go wrong here.'

Ben laughed. 'I reckon there's more to smell and to hear than there is to see anyway,' he said. 'It ain't nothing but grass whichever way you look. Just grass and sky rising up and coming down to meet each other at the edges. You're right, Ned. This is good land. We're already doing well enough here, and I reckon we're going to do better still. Now Jane and me have got our Bessie, and you've got that baby back there, and the herd's growing every year.'

Ned grinned. He turned the horse towards home and kicked his heels lightly against its flanks. The sun was behind him now, burning hotly onto his back, pressing through his shirt and warming his skin. The world felt soft and warm, like a mother holding him. He could hear Ben at his side, and somewhere in the distance the cattle were lowing softly. In the distance were the two little houses joined together, and inside were Julie and Jane, and Bessie and that small, new baby that would unfold to become a person that he would be glad to know. Life was good, and Ned was glad to be in it.

THE END


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